The Ragnarok comes
by Vicent1995
Summary: The End of times has come. The last battle shall be fought. Once the time comes the gods shall stop their laughter. And from the cinders of the old world shall rise a new one. Will it be a bright or a dark one? Multi-crossover, includes Warhammer 40k, Halo, Mass Effect and many more. Post Halo 4 and beginnings ME1. Warhammer takes place five years after Dawn of War II Retribution.
1. Dangerous Drifters

**Well, well, so here am I.**

**First and foremost: nothing i'm writing here is mine. Halo belongs to Microsoft. Warhammer 40k belongs to Games Workshop (at least as long as they fend the legion of law sues they got for ripping off 3/4 of the fluff from other sources).**

**Second and nearly as important: I'm not a native english. I have a good level, yet it's not fully natural on me. Soo... if someone sees a flaw, or mistake, or a piece of synthaxis that made your eyes a fountain of blood... please be comprehensive and point it out, i shall correct it as soon as possible.**

**Third, if someone is interested in getting an OC, send me your private messages. At least send me name, age, personality, profesion, and if you want to tell me a piece of his background then better.**

**So here it is ladies and gentlemen: The coming of the Ragnarok. The last edda sung by mortal men.**

**1.-Dangerous drifters**

Lord Admiral Vicent Bonet stared the abomination. He disliked it, it disliked him. End of the story. Well, he wasn't sure if the Warp had feelings. Yet he was one hundred percent sure that something where daemons, chaos energy (and God-Emperor-knows-what more) spammed like servitors from the vats of Mars wasn't an ammiable entity. Hell, the warp was were the false Gods' of Chaos navigated alongside their aberrating minions.

Or so he understood. He was from a rather humble birth. Only because he happened to be born on a family of navy soldiers, he had such a chance. That chance came, of course with a sheer amount of luck,skill, many carefully planed operations, and help. He had a hard time reaching that position, and if it weren't for the hand of a certain inquisitor...

"Lord Admiral"urged the voice behind him"Are you paying attention?"

"Oh"he was completely startled, taken aback by the sudden interruption of his ruminations"yes Cecily, i want the grox with white amasec, and if possible-"his voice died off.

The man behind him wasn't Cecily. Emperor takem him, Cecily wasn't his adjuntant anymore, not since that ork killakan got her. He remembered now it. The bloodstains and a piece of spleen were stuck in his uniform. Luckily the dark red wouldn't make a contrast with the pitch-black fabric of his uniform. He was getting off the trail again,wasn't he?

Lord General Castor, the newly appointed commander in chief of the newly made Ursan Correctionary Force (formed by the cadian 93rd, 110th and 134th regiments, the 8th Catachan regiment, and the 40th volpone mecanized regiment and the Kauravan Conservators 102nd armored regiment) watched the admiral, bemused. He had been told already how much of an oddball he was. Indeed, those sources were proven right the first time they met, and his adjuntant/bodyguard/permanent menace, sergeant Merrick pointed that in the most profane way.

"Surely he had an absentminded personality, but he was also useful to the Emperor". That pretty much resumed Castor's opinion. For the veteran cadian nobody was expendable, even if said person needed a belt's worth of active melta charges and a few drugs to achieve the required profile. For Bonet, though, the general knew, albeit only through the battle reports, that he didn't need said devices.

Castor, for Bonet, or anybody in the Correctionary force (save for a certain sergeant), was a mistery. Aside from the sketchy oficial reports (by oficial he meant those censored documents that the Holy Ordos hadn't burnt on sight) he didn't know much of the elitistic officer. He was a devoted hunter, yes, like ninety percent of Imperial nobility. He was a good marksman and and born leader, something grateful to find when dealing with superiors (and as comanding officer, Castor outranked the humble Arealian) and more scarcer than it ought to be. But Castor could be a pain in the ass in ocasions, when he let the hubris of nobility meddle with the pride of the survivor of a hundred battles, leaving a pompous arrogant that looked down everyone who didn't met his stantards of getting killed in droves while taking down droves of xenos, heretics or daemons ten times larger.

At his ninety seven years, he seemed to carry only the half, and figthed like someone carrying only three decades, or less, over his shouldrers. His jetblack hair was retreating, slowly, and yielding the praised scalp to the relentless baldness. Still, the process had only begun and the prideful mustache would survive it's completion.

Vicent still boasted his prideful mane of curly, darker than the void, hair, and was likely to preserve it untill it went by no means he hoped to stay in better shape than him. By the emperor, he might be in his seventies and still appear young via juvenats, but Castor used them too, and coupled them with a hard training regime supervised by Merrick and Lord Commissar Bern (speaking of which…When did Bern enter the bridge?). He was more of a strategist than a line soldier. Castor was the opposite, as his fancy weapons (a plasma sniper rifle that didn't overheat, a treasure that would give wet dreams to any techpriest ever known in the last five millenia, and a power sword) denoted. Those and that prostetic overdimensioned arm, and the scars in his left eye, and the… Warp take everything he was a poster of "how to be a God-Emperordammed cadian".

Castor sighed, but didn't lose his patience.

"Lord Admiral Vicent, have you joined the Emperor in His throne now?Or you had some other kind of indisposition?"

"No"was the only thing he could articulate inmediately"I just got distracted"he stoped again for a moment, staring the Warp" I doubt I will ever feel centered during Warp-Travel."

"My Lord, you're barely centered on things outside the Strategium Room."

Travis Gorian, his adjuntant for the last two years, was the only man bold enough to make such a remark. He didn't punish him because his remarks were always true, and he found too bothersome the task of finding another adjuntant to deal with his mistakes while not trying to turn the admiral into his puppet (one attempt was enough warning).

"Travis, send messages to the Centinel and Warhound of Fenris and order them to correct their routes, i don't want to find them in a different sub-sector. And I want feedback from the Astartes."

"At once my lord"Travis knew well when his admiral was telling him to piss off.

Vicent turned to face the Lord General, flanked by his always gruffy sergeant, and the menacing Lord Commissar. Both of them were bald, one had lost an eye, but they sure were an imposing sight.

"Excuse the delay, Lord Castor"

"There's nothing to excuse, dear admiral, if I believe I know what will be your next words"

·Indeed"recognized Bonet while gifting a half-smile"We are eaching those treacherous dogs. By tomorrow I expect to have my ships dropping death from the skyies of Ursa."  
"And the Adeptus Astartes charging blindly to take all the glory" he thought, and his navigator, also a psyker, gave a snort. The space marines were often a pack of gloryhounds. And, well, they were the Blood Ravens, so it was likely that something more would be stolen. No matter how different this new chapter master Angelos was. No, scratch that, the commanding officer wasn't him, it was a "youngster" (for Astartes standards)... Aramus or something like that.

Suddenly his thought were interrupted. The whole bridge trembled, the landscape became blurry. Two minutes chaos ensued. Ensigns screamed in panic, the navigator screamed in pain, Bern in anger and frustration because nobody was obeying his command of keeping order and calm, and last (but not least) him trying to get a report of what just happened.

Travis came, shaken.

"WHAT DID JUST HAPPEN!?"

"Sir...we are not in Ursa"he swallowed"we do not seem to be in the Segmentum Obscurus."

"And we are in the segmentum…"

"The Segmentum Solar"that wasn't all, deduced both Castor and Bonet"but we cannot contact any force, we don't receive any signal that matches ours. Only five which don't resemble any known model."

Well, that was something new. Perhaps they went and bumped on a necron fleet formed by vessel yet unseen by any army the Imperium. Certainly they would get a good battering, but number where in his favour. He had his flagship, the "The Emperor's Wrath", an Oberon-Class Battleship, fitted with two additional lance batteries. There were too the "Centine"l and the "Warhound of Fenris", two Gothic-Class cruisers; and there were too the "Cry of Istvaan", a Luna-Class cruiser that flanked, alongside the Avenger-Class Grand Cruisser "Cadian Pride", the Dictator-Class Cruiser Carrier "Child of Terra". Add that the three Battle-barges of the Blood Ravens, and he had enough firepower to take them down in a blink of an Astarte's eye.

Suddenly ensign Brook Hayes, operator of the auspex, appeared.

"Sir unkwnown ships seem to be full of organic live."

"Okay, no Necrons. Then ¿Chaos?" Those ships, seemed too new to belong to heretics. Tainted vessels tended to date back from the Heresy. Now that they were closer he could appreciate differences:

Two were grey, with an industrial appearence. The closer one ought to be analogue to a Battleship. The other, smaller, seemed like a cruiser.

The remaining three were purple. Two seemed slightly bigger than his battleship while the last one was gargantuan. Measuring something like 30 kilometers, or so indicated the scanners.

Those flotillas engaged in that moment. The first group was losing, despite hammering hard the enemy

"What I do?" He had to strike now. They might be in dissarray here, but Warp take him if he decided to waste the chance of riding off the two unknown fleets. On the other hand there was the off chance one side proved friendly.

"Sir incomming signals from unknown 01!"announced someone who didn't identificate.

Suddenly the image of a Human, tall, muscular, distressed and clad in grey uniform, appeared. The quality of the holograme was poor, the communication systems may be suffering some problems. Was him one of the rebels of Ursa? Well, Ursa wasn't that far from Segmentum Solar.

"This is Commodore Lasky of UNSC Infinity. I'm requesting help. We are being outnumbered by Storm forces. We need-"the image got cut. It wasn't their systems fault. It was because the other battleship took a direct and very nasty shot head-on.

He had never heard of that "UNSC" nor "The Storm". Both rebel factions, surely, but still...something was out of place. No, the purple ships didn't hold human life, according to the latest data from the auspex.

"Well, I think we could aid this UNSC."

"What makes you think we should aid rebels?"

"Castor, tell me of a time a rebel said directly to you: "hi I'm a rebel and I need your help"."

"Once in Gradis II when a poor sod fell from a four storey building"pointed the General"but no, it's not something that happens often nor normally."

"Exactly, and my point is that, considering those ships, I think they are not rebels, at least in the strict sense of the word-they might have never heard of the emperor nor the Imperium."

"In the Segmentum Solar?"Castor couldn't help but mock such a farfetched idea"The center of the Imperium, ignorant of the Imperium? By the Goldgen Throne, that is a good one"he got a straight face again, unlike Merrick who was on the floor"still, I think there's no harm in asking about them later."

"And to ask them we need to keep them in one piece"concluded Bonet"Travys, contact the ships, Astartes included, and order them to take battle positions. We might be on a first contact scenary. And I want the package for said cases."

"At your orders my Lord."

"Master of ordinance"called Bonet, albeit he knew Horace was already preparing the package.

"My Lord, Nova cannon and lance batteries ready."

"Excellent, greet them. Greet them warmly."

**And that's it. Hope you liked it. Mass effect won't come until chapter 3. Sorry if I misguided someone. But believe me, this multicrossover might well be worth... or so I think.**


	2. Being nice sometimes works

**Before beginning the new chapter. Thanks to all my readers. I didn't expect that many visits in quite a short period of time, less considering that I put a mature rating. I intend to place a bit of gore, albeit in carefully placed (by my standards) doses. Depending on my mood (and read here: depending on my marks on the finals of my university) I might place something on a spicy line.**

**I will offer now and here a snippet of the Imperial forces that bumped with the Covenant, note this is just stadistics, true information about unit types may be found on warhammerwikia or lexicanum, if you find it teidous go straight to the story (not that you wouldn't do that even if i didn't tell you, but still):**

**-Lord Admiral Vicent Bonet. Age: 75. Commander of the Imperial Navy squadron dettached to the Correctionary Force.**

**-Lord General Militant Castor Aubenfield. Age: 93. Commander in chief of the Ursan Correctionary Force and officer in command of the Cadian 110th, The Shadow Corps. Strength of regiment: 30000 guardsman and a full battalion of 1000 kasrkins. Attached an auxiliary force of 500 ogryns and a 100 bullgryns. Currently the regiment is under Inquisition surveillance due to deffection of regimental elements during the Aurelian Campaign.**

**-Lord Commissar Bern. Age: 59. Highest ranked member of the Commissariat in this operation. Old friend of Castor, who's the first and only officer he's been attached to.**

**-Gunnery Sergeant Merrick. Age: 57. Due to his attempt to kill Castor during the Third Aurelian Crusade he was both punished and commended. He would be Castors aide and bodyguard until the death of one of them, while his pay would be a five hundred percent bigger. Commander of the Kasrkins by direct order of Castor.**

**- Liutenant/aide Travis Gorian. Age: 32. Lord Admiral Vicent Bonet's aide.**

**-Colonel Ghazzi Van Vorp. Commander of the Volpone 40th. Age: 36. Strength of regiment: 10000 men, a 1000 chimeras and a 1000 sentinels, half of them are scout sentinels.**

**-Colonel Matt "Redeye". Commander of the Catachan 8th, the Hunters. Age: 43. Stregnth of regiment: 3500 men, 400 ogryns and two squads of ratling snipers.**

**-Colonel Astor Krell. Commander of the Cadian 93rd. Age: 51 Strength of regiment: 8300 men manning basilisks, hydras and manticores. There's too a battery of eight Thunderers.**

**-Colonel Davin Meckes. Commander of the Cadian 134th. Age 42. Strenght of regiment: 12000 men and a 100 ogryns.**

**-Colonel Braum Stubbs. Youngest of the two sons of Lord General and sub-sector governor Vance Stubbs. Age: 28. Strength of regiment: 11000 men manning a broad range of imperial vehicles. Among them: 100 banewolfs, 1400 Leman Russ tanks from different types, and the Daunting Company: 5 baneblades (Kaurava pattern) and a dozen macharius battle tanks (6 standard, 3 Vanquisher-class and 3 Vulcan-class)**

**-Colonel Bor Pfazis. Commander of the Norian 22nd airborne regiment, attached currently to the navy. Officially his 14000 men-strong regiment doesn't belong to the Correctionary Force. Age: 39**

**-Captain Graina Fitzgrald. Captain of the 43rd Iotan Dragons 6th company of the Tempestus Scions. Assigned alongside her 200 men-strong to help Lord Castor. **

**Blood Ravens. The chapter has purged the heresy seeded by the Azariah Kyras. Now the title of Azariah no longer exists. Under Gabriel Angelos command, the Blood Raves started five years ago a long and delicate process of recuperation. Still, they are a far cry from times long gone. Three decades of wafare: Tartarus, Kronus, Kaurava and Aurelia, the worst of all. In the first two conflicts several battle-brothers died in a short period of time, but the Kaurava conflict suposed the loss of half chapter and two captains, being Force-Commander Indrick Boreale one of them. After Kaurava all recruiting worlds, save Trontiux 3, outside Sub-Sector Aurelia where lost. Then came the Aurelian Crusades that lasted fourteen years. As a result, only Meridian remained populated, yet plunged into anarchy. The Blood-Ravens had been left with two recruited worlds out of a dozen, one of them had aported everything it could yield, and the other wouldn't provide new neophites in the time being.**

**Thus Chapter Master Angelos embarked nearly all his remaining forces to this enterprise with a three-fold plan: first and foremost, to serve to Imperium; second, to repay Lord Castor's help during the Crusades and stand true to their friendship. And last, but not the least, to add the worlds of Ursa Prime, and Ursa Fortis to the chapter's demesne.**

**Currently Jonah Orion, now a dreaghnout, holds the Title of Chief Librarian. He in case the campaing turns for the worst, shall take the remnants of the Blood Ravens and restore the chapter with whatever assets they may have. But the upper echeleon is empty: the only captains alive are Apollo Diomedes, Aramus and Davian Thule. And even with just three of them, none of these captains has a full strenght company, even after Angelos decided to distribute his company's remnants between the Thule's 4th and Aramus' 5th. Scout-Sergeant Cyrus leads the three remaining squads of the 10th.**

**It is Aramus what concerns Angelos. The chapter has survived darker times in the past, but the young captain is doubted by the strangers. He was accused for heresy, he started its pilgrimage, but returned when he was proven innocent. Still the shadow of doubt remains. He must be proven as trustworthy again. And so Angelos announced that he wouldn't let the forces, but Aramus. He would, instead, act as an advisor to the Lord General and the Force Commander. Only time might prove him right**

**Chapter Strength: roughly 300 marines, between battle-brothers, librarians, apothecaries, chaplains, and techmarines.**

**Chapter 2.-Being nice sometimes works **

This is it men... the moment of glory. In his thoughts Castor show pride. Every time his men went to battle (and didn't botch things as badly as had happened during the early stages of the Third Aurelian Crusade), he felt an inmense pride. They were just men and women, simply that. They lacked any type of enhancement, there was no psychic powers (in most of them) or blessings of the gods (save for those times where the God-Emperor's hand was clearly visible, but that help just came in times of need anyway).

No, they were, to all effects, just men and women. Simple mortals. ¿But did those mortals kneel to the monstruositys of the warp?¿Did they cower in fear? Some of them did. Some betrayed the Imperium, abandoned their vows to the God-Emperor, forgetting His actions and benevolence. Some betrayed mankind, but most stood firm. Most men and women stood together against the cruelty of the Universe, marching side by side at rythm marked by the hymns of the Ecclesiarchy and the songs chorused by their kinsmen in a million worlds. Mankind had earned the right to rule the galaxy not only because humans were superior to filthy xenos, not only because the Divine Magesty they served said so, but because they stood firm. Because they were strong and, no matter what the cruel universe threw at them, they wouldn't flinch. Always marching, gearing and smiting the enemy. That was it. Their main reason to hold the right of governing the galaxy was their strength.

And as his father, his grand-father, and all his ancestor did since the days of the Great Crusade, he would march with his men. And they would smite the enemy, be it a xenos, a daemon, or heretic scum. By the Emperor it would be so.

Now, he was a bit curious. Those two ships seemed human-made, albeit devoid of the decorations that marred the imperial ships. They reminded him of the Imperium ships, yes... but at the same time something felt different.

"Where are you from?"murmured the Cadian.

Soon the third party joined the battle. Imperial battleships weren't just extremely ornated with gothic-style architecture, but were stuffed with many of the nastiest weapons the Milky Way had to offer. Castor doubted that there was an inch in the battleship's surface that didn't hold a weapon or some decoration.

Soon the _Centinel_ and the _Warhound of Fenris_ would engage in close combat. The Gothic-Class cruisers sported superior firepower in comparison to it's cousins the Luna-Class. At pointblank range, they packed a mighty a punch. Attacking from below a ship meant they wouldn't be unter heavy fire, since more than half the mounted weapons weren't in an angle to attack them. Doing both things at the same time meant an overkill with little effort. Add that the intervention of two battleships (the _Infinity_ and the_ Emperor's Wrath_) and in twenty minutes, a Covenant Assault carrier blew into pieces. It's shipmaster, Arvo Pamee' wouldn't see the doom of his ship. He was blown alongside the bridge when the _Emperor's Wrath_ Nova cannon hit him head on, in a moment when the ships shields were down. He felt momentaneously a sting of pain while his armor shattered,clawing its broken pieces in his body. Then his nerves were burned while his flesh got charred, then both of them got atomized as fast as the bones would do a fraction of second later.

Commodore Thomas Lasky regained consiciousness. All was confusing. Soon he could discern a face: Sarah's. The Spartan commander was kneeled in front of him, calling him by his name with no response.

"Tom"no response"Tom...¡TOOOOOM!"and that time he accompanied his name with a slap.

Now, now he was clearly awake, and with a red cheek. And he saw the battle. First, he noticed how messy was the bridge of the _Infinity _after taking that shot. Flames acros several computers. Members of the crew running to assist wounded, or remove the dead. Close to them lay a young woman. She had been beautiful from birth until the moment a piece of shrapnel decided to past through his face. Now the left cheek was a mess of red goo and white fragments. And he noted that her eyes was out of place. Sure enough, scenes like that one might be taking place on this place and at this moment. He tried to fend the thought. In vain.

He tried to get up, in vain again. In less than five seconds he was in the same position. But he tried to get up again. The second attempt bore a better fruit, he on his feet again. Sarah sustained him, but, damn, he was on his feet now. And on his feet he would fight (sort of) and die. A certainity once the supercarrier began to fire the first salvos.

Then a miracle ocurred. One of the carries got hit from a different angle than those of his weapons. He turned his gaze and admired the mighty warships that charged the fight. They seemed moving cathedrals. Cathedrals stuffed with as many guns as their builders could put without blowing the structure.

Lasky glared the warships, they truly deserved the name. Fielding ridiculous amount of firepower, that battleship could hold his own in most fights, he was sure of it. And his smaller friends seemed to work on the same basis.

He then directed his attention to the _Winter Soldier_, an Halcyom-class cruiser. Both assault carriers where focusing their firepower on the vessel. Barrage after barrage, they grey ship turned darker, until it would be reduced to cinders. Wait. ¿Could ships made of metal be reduced to cinders in the first place?

The battle became a mexican stand-off, only that there two guys were shooting the same oponent. Rows upon rows of beams and missiles flew from the ships. Their guns roaring, tearing a mortal wound upon the enemy vessel. Between the _Infinity_ and three of the other side's ships, the first assault carrier took a heavy pounding from all sides. Their weapons silenced for a moment. Only then he saw he had avenged the _Winter Soldier_. A meager consolation. Many live where lost. On both sides. Just to ammend the an avoidable loss.

In the meantime, _Cadian Pride_ was under heavy fire from the gargantuan ship. Each broadside dealed great damage, churning whole sections of the ship. But taking the chance, _Terra's Child_ and _Cry_ _of Istvaan_ hammered the monster. The first by using his massive stock of fighters and orbital bombers. The second throwing all she had. They pounded hard, but not as hard as the astartes battle-barges. Gabriel Angelos Himself commanded the battle from the _Litany of Fury. _Aramus' experience in void warfare was scarce, by the standards of his chapter. This time, he was meant to observe and learn.

And so the battle-barges took advantage of their superior mobility respect that monster, making hit and run attacks. Certainly not the most flashy of maneuvers, but they didn't have manpower to waste. Hit. Run. And so on, they would carry with this tactic unless they ran out of munition or they outmaneuvered them.

The young captain nodded, annoting all the patterns, mentally running how the battle was evolving, thinking about possible twists. A captain must develope strategic skills, must undersand the bigger picture, yet pay attention to the detail. Here and there he made a few comments to Angelos, pointing possible patterns of movement. The first two times, he nearly got half force killed, by nearly slamming the to a swarm of killercraft. The third attempt and further on went better. Not flawless, but good.

Avu Moram was beginning to despair. His duty to the Great Journey seemed easy until the second wave of indifels came. Now he ought to weight his choices. If he allowed to fight the enemy under those numerical odds, he would be dead alongside his super-carrier's crew. He would loss his flagship.

Something Avu Moram wouldn't want ever to happen. His super-assault carrier was a too valuable asset as to loss it, no matter what went in exchange. He had lost one vessel already, the other was sustaining heavy damage. Certainly, one of the first ships he encountered was smashed to smithereens. Another two had suffered damage too. He thought that counted as an advantageous result, considering the odds. He had done a good job and now it was better to run away. He ordered retreat. And in just in an hour. Not bad enough. Perhaps the Storm High Command might consider him a coward rat, and would live dishonored. He no longer cared of honor. The Sanghieli, from the moment the mighty prophets elevated the brutal Jiralhanae above them, had lost all their honor. And its better to live without honor and a ship that dying and discovering in the aftelive that you don't have honor, and much less a ship.

And so his ship, the _Unending Song_ left the field of battle. But the first ship's remnants fell to orbit accompanying the _Scion of Qikost_, whose drive and gravity systems went in a blackout long enough to allow the neighbouring planet's gravity well to engulf it.

Vicent grinned. A weak grin, that dissapeared one the moment he realised the damage on some of his ships. The intense repairs (or even scrapping it) would mean he would be dealing quite a while with techpriests, angry techpriests. Being in good mood made them semi-tolerable, pissed off about what a poor treatment received the machine-spirits gave him the urge to ask said techpriests what opined the spirit of a boltershell. He refrained himself because he used a plasma pistol, not a bolterpistol, and wasn't sure if bullets had machine-spirits.

Castor smiled, satisfied, while seeing the efficiency of the Imperium when it resolved itself to destroy the Xenos.

"Good job Admiral. In the end you proved yourself worthy of your title. I didn't expect that much."

"Is it something you should say to another officer of equal rank?"

"Yes"he sounded extremely sure"Bonet, I would lie if I said that all officers in the Guard or the Navy keep their hands out of their records. I judge officers by their actions, personality and how well they perform their duties. Suffice to say, and I mean no offense, that you seemed-"

"A fucking oddball"puntualized both Travis and Merrick at the same time.

Bonet stared coldly the ensign. None of them was a psyker, but the message was clear to both: "If I didn't find it too bothersome, I would have found a new aide and hanged you in front of the eninges". Travis just gave a smile. In the end he was a good boy. A good boy that managed to get all his missing things together. If only had a nicer wit, like Cecily's... his face darkened. Theirs was a sad story.

The bridge gates opened. Three men raced to their place. Van Vorp, Stubbs ahead of the petite woman. His safeguard, whose name could never remember. Following the tradition of many noble families, she received treatment to ressemble and sound like her charge's mother. Truly a beautiful woman. She reminded Castor of the Lailangs of Nosir Epsilon. Beautiful, quite likely lovely, and deadly once they got your back.

Behind them, Matt "Redeye" strolled. Another burly male, with muscles thick enough to make the same effect as a carapace armour. And last were the other cadian commanders: Astor was a chubby old bald man. His legs were long gone and instead used what seemed a miniature version of the sentinels' legs; Davin was stocky with a golden hair, fearless gaze and demeanor... and rotten teeth. Half a year operating with catachans (and surviving) yielded that result.

They were all here. Save from the space marines, but they soon would arrive.

"Gentlemen"Castor started to talk"I want to ask you one thing: suppose you are me. What would you do with that vessel?"

He glared the cadian colonels. None of them would give an input. They believed too blindly in his commanding skills that wouldn't dare. One thing was develope the tactics for a certain strategy, another was come up with a strategy for the individual that generally devised said strategies. Imperial Generals thought that disagreement was dissension or cedition with an alarming frequency. Better stay silent.

The first one to speak was Van Vorp. He was arrogant, and overlyconfident, in the eyes of Bonet. Braggard nobles who had everything from birth rarely echoed a sense of respect. Castor, perhaps, was the exception, not part of the rule. He still wasn't sure how to deal with certain comments, or his mannerism (and better forget the issue of his trophie racks, hell. How many of them he needed?).Still, what he said surprised the hardened admiral.

"We should try to establish contact with them. And to make sure there's no trick, both sides should come nearly unarmed"

Castor cocked an eyebrow. Neither him nor anyone in the room expected that a Volpone officer prime examples of their homeworld's values (bigotry, disrespect for live in general and an approach to diplomacy consisting in how many lasrifles you could stack in one room). An attempt of open diplomacy was not rare, it was, most likely, a miracle. What was his concept of unarmed? A hundred lascannons?

"A couple of guards should suffice, that and the weapons we usually carry"

"I say we simply hit them with our whole force and then ask questions"sentenced Braum.

"The kauravan way, shoot before even thinking"mocked Davin"no wonder the sisters of battle and half the Blood Ravens died. It's hard not to when a legion of baneblades rides over you with no reason at all."

"Oh, surely you would love to spend an evening with the xenos before declaring war on them"pure venom flowed from his mouth"indeed, I doubt you would spend less than a week trying to get along them and make them accept the idea of an attack. I imagine their words: of course, guardsman, we will surrender our lives inmediately now that you exposed your case."

"Perhaps they would do that in our imagination"conceded Ghazzi"but on real live only those tainted or stupid enough to ressemble you would make such a decision."

With that, Warp broke loose. Braum punched Ghazzy in the chin. The volpone fell down, and stretched his arms to hold the kauravan. The safeguard was surrounded by Davin ad Astor: if she was to enter the brawl, things wouldn't end with a broken nose. She had the sense to stay out of the fight, but one never could be enough sure. Ghazzi fought back, throwing the fellow colonel. When both on them where on their feet, the duo charged at each other.

Castor sighed. He, somewhat, understood the reason of Braums answer. His elder sister, Nikke, ought to be knwon through half the segmentum by now. "The Adamantium Lady". The first human to escape from the arenas of Comorragh. The first to survive a duel with Lelith Hesperax. At first it was tought it was a ploy of the dark eldar. But hardly anyone could believe said ploy included seven kauravan regiments wrecking havoc when Nikke guided them through the gate that brought her back to home. They were forced to retreat, and the gateway portal was destroyed. But still, for the first time in millenia the dark city had been attacked. And unlike the last time, where Archon Vect (overlord of Commorragh) had planned it as a mean to weaken his enemies, the attack had been real. For the first time since its foundation, the dark city's citizens didn't feel safe, and not from the attacks from a God of Chaos, but from those same "mon'keigh" (as humans where called) they hunted for fun. That was one of his successes. The other side of Nikke's fame, was how good was she to either minimize or hid her failures. Still she was a wall he had to surpass, or reach, in order to get his father's admiration.

"Boss, speak with them"was all Redeye said" as long as it doesn't involve my men getting in battle, I don't really much care"

"General, I say we must contact them. My opinion is that they must come from a world isolated from the Imperium since the Dark Age of Technology. Perhaps they hold hidden chaches of arcane knowledge. That or they might have developed new techonologies and designs"

That struck Castor. If something had characterized the Imperium for its 10.000 years of blessed existence, it was that innovation was nearly a forgotten word. All new knowledge (if it wasn't lost again) came from the ancient blueprints left in the Standard Template Constructs build back long before the birth of the Imperium. New technology... the idea sounded bizarre, perhaps it was an heretikal concept. Yet it had a certain appeal.  
He had decided it. "Sorry Braum".

"Ensign, establish contact with the ship. ¡On the double!"

"Lord General-"

"What is it, Vicent?"inquired Castor.

"Please, be nice, sometimes works. Unless you're dealing with an ork, there all roots in carrying the biggest gun or stick."

"Or the most menacing tank"puntualized Merrick, now both the sergeant and the Admiral smiled.

Castor was getting in position, the officers moved and gave the Lord General all the space he might need. Bonet decided to get farther. He had to speak to someone in a corner. Augusto da Benetek, member of the Benetek house still felt confused, or, better said, distressed. For the veteran navigator, that was rare. ¿It may be some side-effects of the mutation? All navigators, due to their constant contact with the warp, ended up as grotesque aberrations. A tragic destiny for someone that gave his best for the Imperium during his whole live. But Augusto wasn't that old yet.

"Admiral"his eyes were glassy"you must tell the General".

He had a seizure then, for a few moments, he moved violently all his limbs while gasping and groaning. Once he stoped he talked again.

"The astronomican... is no more"

**And that's the end of chapter 2. Well, I feel really proud of myself. Now I might sound selfish but, hell, I began this fanfic today. I started the first chapter at midnight because I couldn't sleep and now, just twenty hours after starting, I've finished the second chapter. That's like 6000 words in a day. I doubt I ever wrote as much as this in such a period of time.**

** If someone dislikes, or finds weird, some elements, please tell me, I will revise them. And regarding Mass Effect. My idea was to include it at the end of chapter 3, but i think it should be better to start adding things from ME at the fourth. I want to spend a bit more with the UNSC. I cannot shake the feeling I focused way too much in the Imperium (okay they are the pimpiest gang, but still). Next time, the survivors shall shine like they should.**

**As far as my lore goes, the ratio in naval battles was that one covenant ship could take on three human vessels. So I thought it was reasonable that Lasky got his ass more or less handled. The other vessel was rather old, not even upgraded, and the Storm commander was indeed an intelligent veteran. I'm still debating how will they met again. **

**And the Imperium didn't have it completely granted, it was 3 versus 8 (and with a surprise attack). The casualties were one ship down and two damaged against two down. I think that's more or less equilibrated.**

**For the heretikal word... no, I didn't mispell. The Imperium of Man has the concept of heretek- heretical uses of technology or investigacions that are heretichal for the tech-priests.**

**Last thing I want to say is that I doubt I will keep this pace. Other updates might take longer, but I will not stop doing them.**


	3. First Contacts

**Chapter 3.- First contacts.**

**UNSC Infinity year 4th of july, year 2561 of the military calendar .**

Thomas Lasky wiped a few droplets of blood (his blood) with a handkerchief. Then, he swept the same piece of cloth through his uniform, he did not have a spare handkerchief now, nor time to change his uniform for a cleaner one. Sarah and Dave, two of his most lauded SPARTANS stood behind him. He was nervous. Really nervous. That much was crystal clear to Sarah. His old friend broke position and shook the commodore. She manhandled him with ease, since her new armor gave her an additional boost.

With the Mjolmir Mark IX prototipe, she could go toe to toe with the second generation using Mark VIII . Kelly had nearly lost, and Master Chief had to resort every trick he knew to turn the tables. Of course any member of the fourth spartan generation would be crushed be their senior if they used the same type of armour. Still, the results where here. Mankind had spartans again, his stalwart hoplites would be in full number again. And then they would finish the war once and for all. The spartans, and the rest of the human race, armed with new symbols for the future. The _Infinity _was one of them. It marked the moment when the UNSC truly became a giant.

And now a new giant stood in front of them. On size terms the two giants were more or less equalled. But that other ship just sported an amount of firepower that was, at least, thrice the _Infinity's_ whole arsenal. That was a lot._  
_

A first contact. The UNSC didn't have to attend such a situation in decades, and the last time, the first contact escalated on a all-out war that costed billions, if not trillions, of lives on both sides. Not only the dead were to be taken into account, but those wounded, both in flesh (those that might not heal properly nevermore) and spirit (those families and friends scarred by the loss of dear ones). He had to be careful. He must be careful, or that scenario may repeat again.

"No, this time we might be unlucky and be the ones crushed" The Flood had been a variable nobody took into account, and it had been noxious to both sides. But the Covenant took the worst part of it: High Charity had been attacked before they fully understood their predicament. Earth was as ready as it could have been. And they barely survived. Then there was the isue with the didact, Jul and the Remnants, and its main faction: The Purifying Storm of Divine Retribution. Or simply the Storm. Still a thorn on their side albeit they had defeated them many times in the last years. Catherine Halsey might provide them with caches of weaponary from the Forerruners, or so pointed the reports from the ONI. But ONI was the lapdog of Serin Osman, and she was the main culprit of Halsey's defection. She was indeed the culprit behind many of the problems tha the Sangheili Empire that Thel' Vadam was building. And the weakening of their allies, no matter how dubious their loyalty was, weakened the war effort.

No, the human race had already suffered too much from war, there was no need for new fronts. That didn't make thing easier. He was more distressed.

"Grow a pair, Tom"said Palmer.

"Sure, it's easy for you to talk this way, because you won't do the real talking"protested Lasky"be in me place and you'll see how much your balls shrink.

Hadn't offended (just slightly) her, Lasky occupied his position in the platform. "Well, we have run a long way to get here... a second chance for a proper first contact. DON'T mess it". He inspired and exhaled. Sure enough he would do properly. But...What to say? "We come in peace" seemed hypocrite considering they had been on a battle merely a few moments before.

Alas, he couldn't find the answer to his ruminations. An image appeared. A man in his late forties, with a onyx mustache and a black mane retreating from the scalp. His face bore a scar that crossed his right eye from well above the eyebrow and. He seemed so... noble. Lasky wasn't sure of this, but when the commodore watched that man, he felt like watching a stern version of Lord Hood. Yes, haughty and prideful, but with an intelligent stare that showed that the man had learned (either by the good or the bad way) how to value people, how to understand thing properly. But what struck more Lasky was the first part: like Lord Hood. Because he was a human. There were more humans in the galaxy!

Wait... what if he was a rebel? Scratch that, no rebel group had enough resources as to build and maintain more than three ships. And there were half a dozen, one of them a battleship-class vessel. The designs were too alien, too different from those used by the any known shipwright.

"I salute you, fellow officer"hailed the noble"I'm Lord General Militant Castor Aubenfield of the Imperial Guard"

At that moment Lasky began to process data mentally "Well, somehow they speak english, that was a good point. He was, obviously a noble, both by demeanor and title. Also he was a high ranking officer. Generally a long title meant importance, and said relevance was increased by the fact that the key word was general. Obviously he was more than a mere general, perhaps his title was similar to that of General of the Armies used by U.S Army in the past. And this Imperial Guard... it's blatantly clear that they are a military force, belonging to an empire. And considering that they include the nobility titles, it may well be a monarchy, not a teocracy like the Covenant." He had a few piezes of the puzzle in place, but still had a long job in front of him. But first, he had to return the pleasantries.

"My name is Thomas Lasky, commodore of the United Nations Space Comand Navy"

Now was Castor's turn. He deduced that they might be a commonwealth of sorts, that they might held a military structure divided in branches like the Imperium (space command might have a counter part for planetside operations, like their PDF) and that this navy was the main arm of said military he said that? Well, he and Bonet held an analogous rank in the imperial military, but as Castor was from the Guard, he had a certain degree over him (derived from the fact that the Imperial Guard had just one head, the Lord Commander Militant, but the highest rank in the Navy was Lord High-Admiral, analogous to Lord Commander. While each of the five High-Admirals looked mostly for his segmentum, the Lord Commander defended the Guard's interests as a whole in the Senatorum, giving them more political sway) and so was he the one doing the talk. He was from the Navy, so the Navy was the most relied and powerfull arm of their army, enough to be trusted the protocole of negotiation in front of the lack of civilians properly formed.

The Navy was a shield, which fended the enemies's swords, but that could be used to bash those unprepared. If the navy was dominant, it meant a strong shield. Interesting. "Let's see what this young man will tell us".

"General. I cannot stress my gratitude for assisting us in our time of need. Certainly had you not appeared, we might be all dead. I repeat myself: we are grateful to you, our saviours... but,who are you?"

Castor expected that. This Lasky fellow wasn't asking for his identity, but for his alleigance. Another proof of the admiral's hypothesis. Still, he couldn't believe that segmentum solar, the core of the empire, had territories still ignorant of the Imperium. Territories that harbored factions that developed spacefaring ships. He wondered what secrets might the God-Emperor hold right now.

"My young commodore, we are from the glorious Imperium of Man. We"he patted his chest with one hand while pointing the men behind him with the other"We, the Imperial guard, are the hammer of the God-Emperor, His response to any xeno, daemon or heretic that tries to threaten any of the million worlds that form the Imperium."

Lasky seemed startled. Okay, he was partly right: they were a monarchy. But he didn't expect them to be a theocracy at the same time. "So, perhaps this Imperium resembles the early roman empire, and the title of Emperor is just an abreviation for a big bunch of titles. The romans since kicking Tarquinus Superbus' ass, never had a king again untill the reunification of Italy in the XIX century. The roman emperors didn't hold the title of monarch, but a ton of political positions that were resumed in the most important one: Imperator, the commander of the armies. The roman imperators also held a cult to their person, in fact, christianity celebrated their masses the same day romans honored their divinized sovereigns"

But what was a most shocking revelation was the "a million worlds" part. If he counted ten planets per system (and not all planets could host life) that meant a hundred thousand systems. ¿Did he include planets' moons as worlds? That would reduce the size of the Imperium, but still it would mean a huge extension of space. Why they didn't came into contact until now?

"According to some members of my staff"he pointed again his subordinates" they believe, and so do I, that we should formalize our meeting. The reencounter between fellow humans shouldn't take place between hologram."

"An official meeting. Well, certainly we could use the nearest moon or planet to do so. But, under I wonder which conditions we will set."

"A dozen bodyguards and a six ranked officers or prominent civilians. All of us can carry whatever weapons we want. Our ships are to stand on position in case anything wrong happens. Two flyer units will be allowed as escort, but are to return once the landing has taken place. The meeting will be held in five hours on this location"he signaled a point in the southern pole of the nearest planet's hologram.

Lasky couldn't argue with that. The first and second conditions seemed right to him. The third no, yet the other side carried the biggest stick so it was better to tag along with what they had. If things turned for the worst, the _Infinity_ would fight with all its remaining power. The imperial victory was certain, but not its cost.

"Alright then, I guess we will play with your rules"commented Lasky, with a note of resignation.

Once the hologram disappeared he gave clear orders. The weapon batteries went ready, the MAC cannons and missile pods were charged. "If only our frigates weren't defending New Carthage". Two days ago the UNSC _Infinity_ was dispatched to defend the colony from a raid from the Storm. The main reason was that Avu Moram, the third in command of the Remnants and the de facto leader of the Storm, was said to be present in the area. Lasky departed with a battle-ship, three cruisers and the complement of ten frigates issued to serve as his flagship's escort. Fourteen vessels. All deployed before entering the system in order to get the maximum firepower in the shortest amount of time. According to his briefing the Storm barely maintained twenty ships. Quite a feat, considering the losses they suffered in Trafalgar II and the disaster in the Gibralt system. The Remnants were facing a severe problem due to the cut in the supply of new ships or parts to repair the existing ones. Many of the surviving vessels had to be cannibalized for materials, specially those more sophisticated (and scarcer) elements. Jul 'Mdama could get some material from insurrectionist groups and smugglers using Halsey as an intermediary, but one cannot maintain an army with such a dim train of supply.

Indeed, the Remnant faced a dire situation, worsened for every deffection. And those grew more frequent as news that confirmed the claims of Vadam, that the amnesty he had announced wasn't a ploy to lure them into a trap but a truthfull method to bolster his fledging military. It seemed obvious that they wouldn't, couldn't, muster a force equiparable to the massive fleets the deceased Covenant Empire fielded. That's what he thought.

And he was still thinking: "that's how it should have been". It didn't go the way he expected. Nobody expected that Moram could deploy, counting just the cruisers, fout times the human salvation force and nearly reaching their numbers counting the assault carriers alone. More than sixty ships. That seemed to be the all the assets of the Remnants. The defenses of the Cyrenaica system had been overrun, and New Carthage and Siracusa Novum were smouldering ruins.

He couldn't win that fight, and there was nothing worth dying for in that system. Not anymore. Lasky, despite having the power of a giant under his command, felt powerless. If only he had arrived on time... he had failed his duty to protect his kinsmen. Sourly, he ordered retreat, following the Cole protocole. That meant dispersing his force, yes, but it would make it harder to hit. Two years ago, the research department came with an interesting innovation: the Schrodinger field.

When two or more vessels enetered slipsace at the same time, the field activated, making a blurr in the receptors and making impossible to track and specify which course took each ship. That meant a total chaos for the enemy, and forced them to either sending their whole force to a single prey and secure it, or divide themselves and risk to fall into ambushes in order to get a bigger chance to encounter and secure the destruction of relevant war assets,like the _Infinity_. Avi had been lucky, their flagships had ended up together, yet the sangheili was escorted by three additional vessels. Lasky had two at the moment. So he tried, in vain to outmaneuver them. He took down one cruiser before jumping again. After leaving slipspace they battled again, but on the second round the UNSC counted with the help of this... Imperium of Man. He wasn't sure on what he should feel towards the Imperium. He knew nothing about it.

"Sarah, get a unit of spartans ready. I want them on the bay for yesterday. And call Chief."

"Yes sir."

Five hours might seem a fair amount of time. Fairer given the fact they had the exact location. But gathering the diplomatic group and then disembarking them took its sweet time. First there was a full honor guard of spartans, eleven soldiers that formed part of the brightest jewels hailing from the UNSC's cream of the crop. Leading them was commander Palmer. They constitued the bodyguard component. The other one, formed by officers and important civilians was leaded by commodore Lasky, and included: professor Lee Shi-Wong, commander Greilles of the ONI, Roland (he certainly had a better "formation" than Lasky) colonel Silvester from the ODST and the man holding the youngest title of the UNSC. John.

After the spartans became a branch of their own, it was clear they needed a commanding officer that looked for their interests. Or so thought Lord Hood, who became the prime supporter of said modification. And so a new title was born: Master Chief of the Spartan. The commanding officer of the strongest soldiers humanity had ever produced. John was one of the best members of the second generation, the summum of the Spartan program, and his service record was flawless. So there wasn't much discussion if he should be the one holding the title.

A new system was established for the Spartans, with a few elements extracted from the Sanghielli. Recruits, soldiers and sergeants wore blue armor. Liutenants and Captains, red armor. Commanders and colonels white armour. Generals and the Master Chief, golden armour. Recruits' armour had the basic symbol: a greek helmet with a depiction of Milky Way's disk, all in black. soldiers, liutenants, commanders and generals the same design but with the addition of a black spear that crossed the helmet from above. sergeants, captains, colonels and the Master Chief had two spears crossed. And the Master Chief, insead of using black colour, used white for his insignia. There where two exceptions: first, the spartans-II had the right and obligation to wear green armour, independently of their rank; second, the spartans special operations force, the Head Hunters, who wore black armour and no insignia. Sarah was one of the few to wear white armour, and still nobody wore golden armour (John should, but he was a spartan-II) due to the still small size of the spartans' numbers. But time to time.

His trademark green Mjolmir armour was really bulky. It gave John, who was a brunette giant with his nearly seven feet of height, a plus. With the armor he measured seven feet and three inches. Lasky didn't know John's weight but sure as sure it was doubled or tripled with the addition of the armour. If anyone said that the said that the spartan was not an intimidating sight, he ought go to a oftalmologist. He was a giant in flesh, a titan in armour. And the0 conversations people had with him were famous by their resemblance to monologues. He barely talked after Cortana's death (if that word could be applied to an AI). She was the last bridge that conected John with the rest of the world. Avery, his original squadmates, even Halsey, the cause of his curses and blessings, served the same role. And they were gone. Now Kelly was the one of the few persons that could maintain something similar to a chat with him. But the pain he suffered was still there. And in order to never feel it again, John had decided to bunker himself.

Once they were assembled, Lasky gazed everyone, from the diplomatic unit to the last operator or Huragok. He shut his eyes as if he wanted to cut the torrent of images and thus focus more on his thoughts. The next moment he opened them, knowing exactly what to say. When he spoke, he was calm, but his voice was strong and firm.

"For the first time in nearly four decades, we are on a first contact again. Gentlemen, you would liars if you said you didn't know what happened last time"everyone knew it, it was marked in ther flesh and minds, those that didn't lose a limb lost someone dear"This time, this second attempt, we have an advantage, two advantage in truth: the first one is that they showed cooperation, the second is that they are humans."

Now a buzz of chatter began, but went off once Lasky spoke again.

"This time, we will strive to achieve peace, to gain a new ally instead of a foe. No matter where they come front. But if the tragedy repeats itself, if we have yet to start a war again... we must sacrifice ourselves-now stupor clutched the whole auditorium-In order to avoid a new war we must sacrify ourselves, trying to bring down that squadron with us. And so, we will erase from history, theirs and ours, this encounter. We will remain ignorant of each other, granting us the time to heal our wounds, and another chance if they encounter us again to reach an understanding-now his voice softened-we must avoid a new war, ladies and gentlemen, we simply cannot afford it."

Nobody discused the commodore's affirmation, for each member of the crew was with him. If they lifes were to be the price of peace, so be it.

Lasky turned around and boarded the Pelican. This new model, the **Dropship 79 Heavy-Trooper Carrier,** allowed a payload of up to twenty passangers, be it spartans, ODST or common troopers, plus the two pilots. It had a gunship variant, the **G79H-TC/MA,** of which two exemplars served as escort. The honor guard was splitted in halves, each one boarding a different gunship, the diplomatics were to board the carrier. First Lasky, then John, Wong, Greilles and Silvester. Roland had been uploaded a while before.

Nobody let a word out during the flight, aside from the minimum indications from the pilots. Silent, as Chief. Silvester seemed like he wanted to talk, but by an unfatomable reason he refrained himself. Perhaps was the mood of the mission. Neither during the flight nor after landing at the appointed time and place, nobody dared to break the silence.

The planet was catalogued as ZS-101B. It was quite warm and lushful. So it was that even being in the poles, the temperature was comfortable. The site of reunion was a glade, and quite a big one. The trees had golden leaves, mostly, albeit those with auburn foliage weren't uncommon. Those colours seemed more appropieate for autumn, yet he got the vibe that weren't likely to fall. Once the gunships dropped their payload and returned to the _Infinity_, the humans could appreciate the works of nature. Some birds sang. An animal that vaguely resembled a wildcat stood at a safe distance, observing them. "It seems like a forest extracted from a fairy tale" thought Lasky, and so did his soldiers. Roland didn't, he was too busy cataloguing new those species (he had archived nineteen files, each for specie, by now), he didn't have time nor interest in making such a childish association.

They waited. A minute, two. No sign of them. Once the delay surpassed the quarter of hour, Silvester exploded.

"Damn it! Either they are being a bunch of sore assholes or this a trap! Damn bastards!"

The colonel continued his ranting. Lasky paid attention to a single word: trap. Certainly, havin several officials, the most important ones, on plain sight, unprotected, and with no means to escape, was tempting and easy target. He considered if they should retaliate before this Imperium attacked. He dismissed the idea as it came, for he didn't want to ruin a diplomatic mission or lose meaninglessly a single life just for being hotbloded or for Silvester's paranoia.

A paranoia that didn't have reason. Castor simply had a few delays. He reached the meeting point with a delay twenty minutes. The imperial side deployed three aircraft pieces: two vultures and a Thunderhawk of the Blood Ravens. Both the gunships and the Astartes' transport were boxy, bulky and fielded an alarming amount of weapons. It seemed that the idea of stuffing as many firepower as it was possible wasn't limited to space vessels.

When the Blood Ravens sallied from the Warp, they had suffered a collective vision. The three-battle-brothers found themselves in the central plaza of a city they knew from the most secret stories of the chapter. It was unmistakable. It's graceful and tall buildings, all neat and tidy, and remembering them from the egyptians of days long gone. The sun was dazzling. The air, despite being in the heart of such a city (or perhaps it was that city), was pure and fresh. Gabriel knew the name of the city, and the planet it belonged, as well as their story. So did his brothers.

Tizca. The City of Light. The capital of Prospero.

The cradle of Magnus the Red and the home of the Thousand Sons. It was, althought, the lesser of Angelo's surprises. What could be more surprising than contemplating a marvel long lost? The answer was simple: contemplating their father. The sire of both the city and the Blood Ravens... Magnus.

Gabriel Angelos was a giant even for a Astartes. Myths surrounding their measures always made him laugh. Acording to Saint Abnetticus and Saint Ward, space marines measured, at least, eight feet of height. The truth was that their minimum height was just seven feet. Sure enough there where a few who reached the fabled eight feet stature without power armour, he did. But most Astartes' height fluctuated between the seven feet and the seven feet and six inches.

Magnus the Red was fifteen feet tall. Even among the Primarchs, gene-fathers of all the Astartes, generals of the ancient Legio Astartes and direct sons of the Emperor, he was a tall individual. His right eye didn't exist anymore. He still conserved the left and a central one appeared in his forehead. His skin was red, like a ripe tomato, and smooth in the place that should occupy his right eye, which seemed to never have existed in Magnus' anatomy. No sign of it, save for the eyebrow. His crimsom mane fell like a blood cascade. He wore his favourite armour. The chestplate took the form of two crossed wings with a saphire scarab at the center.

He voice was deep, and kind:

"My sons"Apollo Diomedes, captain of the 1st company made an attempt to attack him, yet Magnus frooze him from feet to neck"I've few precious time left here. Listen keenly to my words, for I won't, nor _I_ won't be able to, repeat them again.

"Look, observe Tizca, the Magnificent. For centuries I and your forefathers gathered ancient knowledge from acros the galaxy and studied it in this place. Prospero became a paradise, a safe haven from psykers, pursued for too long by their own kin. As more psykers came in search of a place to call home they brought knowledge, and the new knowledge we brought from conquest to conquest attracted more psykers. Scholars of countless worlds came to our libraries and learn from the Great Ocean, the Immaterium, and Chaos or, as we named it, the Primordial Creator. Peace and prosperity became the only thing our folk knew, after millenia of suffering. But it held upon a great lie: we were simply pawns moving upon the whims of the gods."

"Tzeentch, Lord of Change and knowledge, father of magic and sorcery, master of plots and secrets, weaved our demise. He inflicted a curse upon my gene-sons, that stole their humanity and turned them into monsters. Every time I tried my best, tapping as much as I could from the Great Ocean, and using the finest technologies at our disposal. Every time I failed. In desperation, trying to avoid the loss of any son to the curse, I ignored my father's councel and drank as much as I could from the Great Ocean. Tzeentch came to me, lured me into a trap and what is worse, he made me think I had found our salvation. The curse didn't touch my sons anymore... for the time being."

"You know, my sons, our story. You remember the Council of Nikaea, that banished psykers from the Astartes, how we carried on our practices under clandestinity. How Horus fell, carrying me and half my brothers to our doom. But you, my sons, are different."

"We remained pure, we maintained our oath to the Emperor"said Angelos, devoid of all emotion"our fellowship, the Order of the Red Raven, was outside Prospero when its downfall took place, when Tzeentch transported Tizca and its inhabitants, then turned you and the rest of the Thousands Sons into thralls of Chaos and corrupted your works."

"Yes"Magnus showed a sad smile"you know how the history procedes. Horus dies, my Father wounded. My legion maimed by the Rubric of Ahriman. Turned into slaves for the amusement of the gods"now his face darkened" but, my sons the moment of retribution is coming. The day when we shall shut their jaws is coming. And you will help in the blow"

Awe transcended the ranks of the Blood Ravens, for the implications Magnus' statement were clear. Aramus vocalized them.

"My lord"he wasn't sure if calling lord a daemon prince was something a proper space marine should do" if you're speaking the truth... Does it mean the End of Times is upon us?

"Yes"now dozens of whispers echoed through the plaza"yes, Aramus of the 5th company. The last battle is coming. Soon enough we shall regain our freedom and break our shackles. But the End of Times is still not here. You are still weak, and that,my sons, I cannot mend. In the battle to come I might your ally as well as your foe."

"Why, my lord?"inquired Angelos.

"Because, as you pointed, I'm little more than a thrall now. The title of daemon prince is an euphemism to designate the most useful slaves from the materium. Wether or not I manage to free myself from Tzeentch's control is to be seen yet. But fear not, another of your lost brother will stride in your help. He has alredady begun his exploits. You might be wary of him: he deserves it, he knows it and expects so. It's his atonement for sins commited long ago-his voice sounded bitter now- sins which I don't want to mention."

The city began to vanish, and Magnus voice became weaker. The Blood Ravens felt the earth tremble, without understanding why. A sense of urge crossed Magnus face.

"Time is running out"he announced with haste" So hear my last words: you're now in the Milky Way, but this galaxy belongs to a completely different world. Hundreds parallel universes remain close to each other. Some of them are identic to ours but with a completely different history. You're not alone in this endeavour, some shall become your allies, others will join the army that seeks the demise of all light, of all worlds. Here, this world is identical to ours, but there's no emperor, no eldar nor chaos. Ask for Terra and you will show the truth to the blind."

"Join hands with those friends, accept them as they are, for those bonds forged in times of need are the strongest. Search until the time comes, and prepare yourselves for the Battle of all Times."

"Magnus"Angelos had a last question" please tell me what is this darkness you speak about"his primarch was disappearing alongside the city"Tell us!"

Magnus had dissapeared. Tizca wasn't there anymore. Just a white floor, a pale horizon that had no end. Still they heard Magnus messages. "It's simply the Darkness, the Devourer of Worlds, Chaos Incarnated. It's name is Tiamat"

Then all space marines opened their eyes. Commotion, a feeling barely felt by Astartes, was general. But soon enough, they understood their duty.

They had a hard quest in front of them.

Gabriel Angelos, Aramus and Diomedes took a Thunderhawk towards the _Emperor's Wrath_ so they could assemble with the diplomatic unit. The Imperium was older and bigger than the UNSC and its different branches had long histories of political squabble. Under that situation Angelos couldn't help but feel exasperation. The End of Times was coming and they were arguing about pointless and petty privileges. The reason castor called for six individuals to negotiate was so at least a member of each imperial faction was present.

Castor had a hard time getting things done. First off, he had to placate the Mechanicus indigntation caused by the damages suffered during the battle. Then he had to haggle and barter for magos Gyp for his pressence in the mission. Bern didn't gave problems, nor did Vicent as representative figure of the navy or Angelos as representative of the astartes. For the last one he decided to take Stubbs. Ghazzi had stepped down before Castor said anything. A clever move. This way Castor could have no problem in chosing Stubbs and displaying nepotism (Stubbs outranked Ghazzi in nobility rank and the idea of diplomatic relationships had been from the latter), and Braum (aside from feeling he had achieved a degree of confidence with the officer and thus improved his political situation in the force) got a reason to not feel more animosity towards him. Stepping down also scored points for Van Vorp: Castor had a proof that the volpone could sacrifice self-interest for a greater purpose, that he understood that cadians weren't fond of favoritism for mere motives of blood and birthright (and the cadians formed the bulk of that army, so the opinion of their rank and file mattered a lot) which meant he was more likely to give him important tasks, for he had a sounder judgement.

Once decided who went, there was left another issue: who would protect them. Both Kasrkins and Scions disputed the honor. The scions were seen as gloryhounds, tough daddy-boys who didn't taste battle until they graduated from the Schola Progenia. On the contrary, Cadian kasrkins (which literaly meant city boys) were on the battlefield since ten years old, being selected by a simple criteria: if they knew how to shoot and maintain a lasgun by the age of eight they were in. The kasrkins were the pride of Cadia, it's most resilient shields against the daily (ok, not daily but close) attacks of Chaos. And there we go again with the fact that the cadians were a majority in that army. One couldn't just say: "no, we won't use the best you have to offer, instead we will use this douchebags that always look down on the rest of the Imperial Guard". Still, the Scions were a very valuable asset, because they could take missions that would make even the most devoted storm-trooper (even kasrkins) resign. Also there was the fact that the scions tended to be damn good at assassination. Not as proficient as the agents of the Officio Assassinorum, but still they had skills.

Castor came with a salomonic decision. Diomedes and Aramus would lead the escort, which would consist of two fireteams, one composed of kasrkins under Merrick's orders and the other would be Fitzgrald's best scions. And if something happened between them, Castor would make sure that they didn't join the Emperor at the golden throne but with this system's star. With no suits if he could help it.

They were late, and that disappointed Castor, due to the poor organization he had groomed they were going to cause a bad impresion. He had to correct that, and would take whatever measures he deemed necessary. Yet now he tried not to think of them. There was a new civilization to bring back to the Imperium's fold.

Castor's voyage had more chit chat, if the exchange of taunts and mockery between scions and kasrkins could count as such. Castor rolled his eyes, bearing with the shameful behavior of his soldier and the ramblings of magos Gyp about the disadvantadges of the flesh (he really thought now that magos Sy, with the completely damaged vocal processor, would have been a better idea). He seemed like a proper Astartes before battle, thought Diomedes. His lips twisted slightly in a nostalgic smile. He remembered that expression, which Castor showed often towards the end of the Aurelian Crusades. Those last days truly had been a clusterfuck. Once the expression passed through his mind, Apollo's face became stone again... that damn guardsman had been a bad influence. No matter how good soldier he was, certain things simply couldn't be permited.

If certain attitudes were permitted, soon things would escalate quickly. And who knows where thing might end:¿xenos governing humans?¿humans mating with xenos, whom they would share bonds with? By the Emperor, that was something he would never allow, it was beyond heresy. And the best way to avoid that grim scenario was to keep things clear and straight. And so was his duty, as the chaper's Master of the Rites: the upholder and recorder of all traditions gathered by the chapter.

He stared his power axe, _the Fang of Fenris._ When one of the blood ravens techmarines visited Fenris, he had been so amazed by its beauty that he got the inspiration to create this master-crafted weapon. Certainly it was elaborated, but its most important attribute was, for Diomedes, its sheer power: it could tear power armour (any kind of armor, in fact) like paper.

Aramus, Master of the Fleet, held his sword, _Wisdom,_ tightly. The ancient blade gifted to the young captain by Davian Thule once he was interred inside a dreadnought was something very important to was a handsome man, despite being an Astartes. He seemed nervous, he could see it in his brown, and (mostly) always resolute, eyes. His anxiousness, barely worth that name if it were to be measured by normal human standards, was something comprehensible considering his youth and inexperience. He had just one service stud riveted just above his right eyebrow, that was barely a century of service. A century that included the four decades of training, so that reduced his fighting experience to barely sixty years. He was likely to be the youngest captain of the chapter's history, perhaps the youngest captain to ever serve in a loyalist chapter since the days of the Great Crusade.

Apollo had been in the Blood Ravens for half a millenia now. Okey, he had been serving just for four centuries and seventy-two years. Still, he was confident in earning the fifth stood.

The other space marine in the deck said nothing, grazing from time to time his daemonhammer, _Godsplitter_. Gabriel Angelos' face was set on stone. Partially becaus his right cheek and eye were, alongside a good portion of his neck, made metal, which was more rigid than stone. His wound during the climax of the Crusades had been brutal. He was lucky to be alive. That was what Merrick and Castor commented, and what Diomedes believed. For his survival made possible their purification and redemption.

Redemption, he wondered if Magnus, and the so called agent he had sent, deserved that. Tizca had been a great mistake, caused by the lies of Horus Lupercal. Even though he had embraced chaos, what choice he had? He just couldn't let the city, its knowledge and subjects, burn into oblivion. Nor he could remain indifferent at the massacre of his sons. But still... he had served Chaos, no matter his reasons. Apollo had attacked him on sight, but, Was he right to do so?

Lasky, at last, saw the other party. At once, the spartans raised the Grindells, also known as spartan lasers. Those weapons weighed more than a little kid, around twenty kilograms. But their firepower was a sight to behold. Soldiers, armour, vehicles, you name it and the Grindell can tear it, no doubt. It was the best weapon at the UNSC disposal. He ordered them to lower their weapons at once, he didn't want to start a fight. But that didn't mean that he didn't want to be alive, so he activated his shield. In 2670, several breakthroughs allowed the instalation of shields in the rank and file, and officers. Up until now the new generators had been just intsalled in officers, spartans (whose shields twice resistent and reloaded in half the time) and a few units of ODST. Silvester had one for example.

First he saw the Vulture gunships, then the Thunderhawk. The boxy, red, and humongous transport landed showing the awaiting soldiers of the UNSC its back. Eighteen individuals appeared. first soldiers with an armour that vaguely resembled the spartans', led by a bald man, and a group of individuals with dark blue armour and helmets fitted with red googles ( for night vision most likely, heat vision too, perhaps) led by a woman with a stern expression, hazelnut eyes that seemed ice and a shaven scalp with a six tatooed at the left side of that barren head.

Then two giants, clad in red armor (red armor with oversized pauldrons), appeared. The first one wielded a sword, the bald one an axe. The sword wiealder was younger than his companion, and had a stud in his forehead, in contras to the four displayed by its companion (¿were those thing a sign of rank, or just seniority?) They seemed taller than an average spartan, and certainly they had more muscle. Both of them had a weapon that resembled a submachine gun holstered in their hips. Resembled was the operative word: it was more close to a rocket launcher in size. A third giant, even bigger than the other two (and with a good share of prostetics in his face) exited the transport alongside Castor. The giants and the soldiers formed lines and stood firm. This time, Lasky appreciated that the blonde (almost white) haired giant, the third to appear, carried a hammer in his back and that had three studs riveted on the left side of the forehead.

" The studs ar for seniority then, he seems superior in rank to the other two", mused Lasky.

Castor carried two weapons: a sword sheathed in his left thigh and a sniper rifle holstered in his back. Now, Lasky saw that he was maimed, for his left arm was a prostethic too. A good prosthetic, all being said. Castor had used a good part of Inquistor (Lady Inquistor now, he had to remember himself)Adrastia's compensation to get a better one than that shanty model he had been issued in haste so he could join the Aurelian conflict.

After Castor, a mean in his early forties and a youngster appeared. The youngster had short brown hair, whereas the middle-aged man had a mane of coal curls, in a accordance to his uniform's colour. He wore several medals. Lasky, was somewhat appalled by the fact that this Imperium used so frequently the motive of skulls for condecorations. He had seen it too on Castor's only exhibited medal and the armored giants' cuirasses (in these three, the most notable was the winged skull that occupied their chestplate).

The last two weren't less striking. The man had lost the left eye and a good portion of his face too. He wore a greatcoat with epaulets and red-lined collar and cuffs, an officer's peak cap (with a golden skull occupying most of its front) and a sash. Now, what was unsettling was... whatever it was that thing. It seemed human, albeit he was unable to distinct if he was either a male or a female. His body was nearly a machine. He wore a red tunic with a hood. Instead of a mouth he had two tubes, two out of many that conected his head with the rest of the body. And many more moved around him. Two of them had a great amount of plugs. He didn't have fingers, instead he had tools in his mechanic hands. He breathed heavily.

Lasky reacted: he vowed down slightly in signal of respect, as their men did. Castor and the other party did so, but adding a strange gesture: they (all of them save for the robot, or cyborg) crosed their hands in a sign that reminded Lasky of a double-headed eagle.

"Commodore. A pleasure to see you in the flesh"

"General"he didn't seem happy, he noticed why and correct himself"Lord General. I say the same thing."

"Thanks"he smiled kindly"now, would you kindly make the presentations."

"Indeed: this is professor Wong, chief of xenoarqueology; then there's colonel Silvester, of the ODST; commander Greilles of the ONI; and last there's John, Master Chief of the Spartan."

Castor took note from the names, ranks and affiliations. He would order a proper research later. This way it would be easier to mesh them in the Imperial structure. The emperor wouldn't allow a messy procedure, unless force was required. Now, upon hearing John's name, and title, he felt cuiriostiy, and awe. That man was a giant, even on par with the space marines. He seemed well trained and his armor, no doubt, was better than his kasrkins. Obviously he ought to be inferior to an Astartes, for they were the Emperor's finest and chosen. There was a person missing. He would ask what happened to the sixth memeber, but first it was his turn.

"Here to my right I present you chapter master Gabriel Angelos, of the Blood Ravens; behind me there's Lord Admiral Vicent Bonet of the navy (the man in question turned his head surprised, because he had been to distracted while indulging himself in the beauty of the landscape) and colonel Braum Stubbs of the imperial guard; last I present you Lord Commissar Bern and magos Gyp of the Adeptus Mechanicus. And...Where's your sixth member?"

Lasky was too confused at that moment to Master, Commissar and magos? It didn't make sense. What had to do the army with magicians and crusaders? Why they needed commissars?Were the conditions too harsh, their regime of governance too oppresive? Those questions left him unable to answer Castor's in time. Roland went ahead.

"Allow to present myself: I'm AI Roland, active duty on UNSC _Infinity."_

Those two leters had a different meaning for the Imperium: Abherrant Intelligence. Sentient entities with no organic base where on of the two causes of the Age of Strife, a dark era where fighting broke and civilization crumbled. It carried the loss o countless pieces of technology and knowledge. In a desperate attempt to preserve said knowledge, the Adeptus Mechanicus was founded and, in time, it became a religion that worshipped machines and the Omnissaiah, or Machine God. For this cult, the artificial intelligent meant a heresy of the highest rank, tantamount to the acts Horus in his rebellion. For the rest of the Imperium, they weren't liked at all, but not hated to such extent.

Magos Gyp didn't screech, didn't order his destruction. He did the two things at the same time with loudest volum his voice modulator could support.

"HERESY!Burn, destroy that aberration!What are you waiting for?!Eliminate them and purge that thing from the creation!

Castor's eyes seemed platters, the soldiers were shocked. Even Fitzgrald and the Astartes seemed numbstruck. Bern was unable to shut his mouth. Only the Lord Admiral spoke.

"This...Rolo... how does it work?"

Now Magos Gyp was silent, his servo-eyes at maximum capacity. Everyone stared the admiral. Roland, seemed surprised. He saw a spark of curiosity in the officer's gaze, like he was a child awaiting for a new toy

"Well, admiral... that question doesn't come often, if I tell you the whole procedure-"

"What are you doing speaking to that abomination!?"screeched Gyp-Destroy it!"

Gyp took by force a kasrkin's hellgun and pointed it towards the hologram and the admiral. But before he attacked, his hands were crushed by Angelo's massive fist. He writhed in pain, taking a fetal position. Gabriel Angelos turned towards Lasky.

"I must apologize for the attempt of magos Gyp"he seemed somewhat ashamed"Please take into consideration that their religion considers anathema the likes of Roland.

"Is that so?"Roland seemed offended I"cannot do anything about it, unfortunately. Unless you know a way to turn data into flesh and bones."

"Unfortunately"Castor said, unconfortable in front of the pressence of an AI"there's no possible method. Still, it's not our intention to squabble about transform things. We are holding this meeting with another, more elevated, purpose."

Now both Lasky and Castor spoke at the same time:

"To annex the UNSC into the Imperium."

"To forge an aliance between the Imperium and the UNSC."

Numbstruck stares again. Castor didn't expect that. "I guess I will warm up the soldiers before Ursa" thought Castor, a bit bitterly, because he had a good impression in that fellow Lasky. Before anyone said anything else, Aramus spoke.

"Commodore, does any of your legends, myths, or ancient history mention a land, or a planet, named Terra or-he made an effort to remember its ancient name- Earth?"

"Of course, why? All our mythology doesn't only mention Earth, but takes place in parts of it. It's our homeworld and capital, so its pretty obvious that they mention it."

Incomprehension. They could unterstand that their mythology mentioned Holy Terra (or even took place) and be ignorant of the Imperium. But that their capital was Terra meant that they were fooling around with them, or had a misconception and thought that their main world was the authentic Terra. Still Aramus asked another question: the coordinates of Terra. Before Lasky could tell him that was classified information, Roland answered with milimetric accuracy. Then came the number of planets and moons of the Sol Systems. Again Roland answered correctly. The duration of the year? That one got Wong's answer. And so, Aramus bombarded the UNSC with questions for the best part of ten minutes.

"Which is the current year?"that last question was Diomedes'.

"Twenty-five sixty one"

Lasky's answer made a few heads scratch. Finally, Bonet got all the pieces together.

"By the Emperor... now it makes sense: the disappearence of the Astronomican, the fact that they are terrans that don't know of the Imperium... We went back in time!"

"Not exactly"denied Angelos" we certainly are no longer in our milennium. Yet we aren't in the Imperium, nor we are seeing the beginning of the Stellar Exodus that preceded the Dark Age of technology. No, for the Warps is still too clean. I got that confirmed by my lybrarians. And according to the Emperor in the treatise of Nikaea, all the gods of Chaos were born already by this date, all save Slaanesh. Yet we haven't found any daemon, nor a trace of them. The warp here is pure, crystal water. Also, according to what little we know of ancient histoy, Terrans didn't manage to leave the Sol System until the fifht milenium, and then they were just able to reach Alpha Centauri, Sol's closest star. Yet here they are, so far from Terra."

"We aren't in the Imperium anymore?"

That question came from both Bern, Castor, Bonet, and even magos Gyp who had just began to feel the sedative effects of his healing systems. And each one of them feared the answer.

Gabriel stood silent and then each of his words seemed like a stone falling on their heads:

"No, my friends, we aren't in the Imperium anymore. Here the Emperor, nor its most vicious enemies exist."

In a place between dimensions, and beyond the currents of time, they weren't receiving a good signal of the event. The Doctor was bashing the screen.

"Damnation!"

"Doctor, you really should buy a new one."

"This is the first televisor capable of reproduce images transmitted via faster than light signals. It's a treasure."

Rosalind sighed. Men where always so stubborn over the most inconsequential things. Sometimes she felt that with she felt that with his own "brother". "Later you will ramble about men" she thought "Now, now you have work" The two hosts were here already. Ast had done a good job with the young one.

They were two men, despite both of them had long ago abandoned the condition of men, normal men. Both of them were templated steel, whose mettle had been put in test both on the field of battle countless times, albeit the older had proved so in more many ocasions.

The doctor studied them. They did so in return, trying to find his thoughts. The youngest tried it with his gaze, the oldest with his very own mind. He fended both of them. The young one spoke:

"So, you are saying that I died, and you brought me back from the dead and now... in exchance I have to save the whole creation, uh?"

"Indeed, you died, you were back brought from the dead and you have to save the whole creation."

"Ffiu"he whistled"remember me to never ask you for a loan. My life back in exchange for risking it a thousand times over, that if I'm lucky and I make it from the previous one."

-Nobody said it was a fair bargain. You accepted it nonetheless, Johnson.

Sergeant Major Avery Jr. Johnson barely remebered anything before waking up on that place-the Tardis was called- so he wasn't sure if he had agreed to anything. Still, for the time being, he would came along, for he didn't knew the way out. "Sure enough, if I don't find a reason to stay here I will run at the first chance". Avery wasn't a coward, but he disliked figthing blindfolded, like he did in his days as a member from Project Orion. He had been told he was meant to fight for the sake of many worlds (and they didn't meant planets, they meant UNIVERSES), he had his doubts in how many truth were in those words.

"You shouldn't doubt the Doctor"admonished the eldest"he always has held mankind, and the rest of life, as his prime interest."

"Thanks Ahzek.

"Or so I've been told"commented Ahzek Ahriman, first captain and chief lybrarian of the Thousand Sons" I have confidence in my Primarch and the Emperor, but even them had been fooled once. Once was enough for me and Prospero."

The Doctor sighed, none of them were going to be easy. He briefed them. He explained everything worth telling. And once he was done he left them so they could make his mind.

Ahzek still had his that work?Would they stand true to their word and break his rubric and bring back his brothers? For ten millenia he had carried the burden of the Rubric in his thoughts. At least he would die or recover his lost honor. He had maimed his legion, by the Emperor, he had sunk them in Chaos (Well, in truth, he didn't but he thought otherwise). He was clearly inclined to take up arms in that quest yet he felt indecision. For too long he had been under Tzeentch thrall, doing his biding the worst way possible: thinking he was acting on his own will.

Avery was quick to decide. He rose up, took his spartan laser and left. Having heard Ahzek's story he could just say one thing:

"Hey, big boy, I don't know, but staying hidden while wipping over the spilt milk ain't gonna help. It's just my point of view, but if I were given the chance I would take it and try to kick the bastard's unholy ass. You got the chance, now decide."

Meanwhile the Doctor and the Lutece "brothers" finished the device.

"This won't work"commented Rosalind"It will end bad for sure."

Robert thought otherwise. He was sure that thing would go well. Why not? the chances of failure and success were even, so better think in positive. Today, he wore a black suit with a red tie. His "sister" wore a similar one, albeit more clean, for the one doing the dirty job was him.

Avery was the first to arrive. He wore a suit of ODST armor specialized for close quarter combat. Pitch-black. The helmet had the insignia of Orion project on the left side.

"I ain't sure if you're lying or not. But for now, you can count on me for rocking a few asses, miss."

Rosalind smiled. It was creepy, in Johnson's and the Doctor's opinion. Robert smiled too. That made the duo of brothers even creepier.

The Doctor began to think that Ahzek might refuse, that he wouldn't take part on it. Rubbish. He came. This time clad in the colours of a true Captain of th Thousand Sons. Not blue, but crimson and gold. Not a horned helmet but the helm of Therion with the symbol of wisdom at its top. With the golden sekhmet proudly exhibited at his chest and knees. As well as the ancient hyeropgliphs from the long forgotten Egypt which adorned his armor's legs and waist. Several strips of velvet included them too, rivetted in pure gold. At last, his shoulder guards bore the depiction of an eye using the aegyptian style. Each eye held a jewel, a pendant that belonged to Ahzek and the one that belonged to his deceased brother... Ohrmuzd. He carried two weapons: a bolter pistol with inferno bullets (made by him without the help or permission of Tzeentch) and a nemesis force halberd: half power weapon, half magic staff. Union of science and arcane knowledge. A weapon fitting him.**  
**

The two of them stood firm. Awaiting the fate they had chosen. There was no turning back, and words were redundant so they marched forward.

The Doctor's artifact was similar to the eldar webway gates, in appearence. It function was to communicate different worlds.

"But it's just a one way trip"commented Rosalind"so you will get stranded there."

"A one way trip can be made twice-opined Robert- so this way one can complete the circle. They just need to find another one."

"And manage to make it work."

"Why do you always try to find the things' worst side?"

"It's called being realistic Robert."

The Lutece started to argue. The Doctor took their place.

"Well, get ready. You're going to this world. A few basic details you may have forgotten: the year is 2183, according to the Terran calendar. Currently the Earth ruling body, the Systems Alliance, is trying to gain full membership in the Citadel Council. One of their maneuvers was to promote a humane into the ranks of the specters (a secret agents organization) but things went really bad. Now your first priority is to help the candidate, Catherine Shepard, in his search for the responsible."

The gate sparkled, forming a blue screen. Ahzek and Johnson started moving at the same time, but the seven feet and seven inches Astartes made it before. They dissappeared in the blink of an eye. The doctor whispered: "good luck", and hoped for their triumph over the darkness.

**And that's chapter 3, folks. **

** I know I said that the UNSC would show a glorious performance in this chapter, but I felt that the pace was wrong. I didn't want to make a chapter with half a hundred thousand words, trying to explain their journey, their interactions with their fellow humans of the Imperium and some other things I'm not gonna tell even under torture at the hands of slaaneshi cultists.**

**Next chapter will feature two parts: the first might focus the ME world, the other will continue the Halo-Warhammer meeting. If someone asks me why I chose a traitor like Ahriman (his the most powerful human sorceror of Tzeentch) for this quest is: I love the Thousand Sons. They are, alongside the Imperial Guard and Tau (which may appear too, I'm considering how), my favourite army. And Ahzek is, basing myself on the tabletop game, a pure Rapetrain. Only Eldrad and the greater daemon of Tzeentch surpass him in psychic powers, and none of them can cast more than a spell, which Ahzek can do (up to four times per turn). So I thought: you're sending two poor sods to a galaxy full of hostiles, think of someone who can really wipe the enemy's smug in a second. Answer: the mighty Ahriman. That and the fact that I like the tragic air of his backstory.**

**And then I have few thing I want to point out: yes, Games Workshop says, now, that the Astartes measure a minimum of eight feet of height. In fact I mentioned some GW's authors, poorly disguised: Dan Abnett (Mighty is he!) and the hated Matt Ward (famous for turning the Ultramarines Grey Knight into Mary Sues, according to the fanbase). But I really prefer several things of the original versions, ye olde days, when it was called Rogue Trader: the Imperium was nicer, the Eldar were more friendly and the Orks... well they were the same but with cooler hats. I don't know why they got so obssessed with gigantism. I will make a bit of a mix of old and new fluff (history), be warned.**

**For those than don't know about psykers or Warhammer 40k: think of a wizards who extracts his power throught the mind. And that his mind (in warhammer 40k) can be literally raped by a series of entities whose main purpose in life is to cause mayhem. Mankind began to have psykers en masse on the 25th millenium. Then they went all, at the same time, bonkers, causing destruction, cultural regresion, trillions of deaths and all the niceties that come alongside the downfall of civilization. Magnus grew on Prospero, where many psykers seeked refuge. He was, therefore immersed in the mysteries of his powers. Now it's funny that the use of said powers to warn the Emperor about Horus betrayal might backfire and end up in him becoming a traitor too. A long story that I don't want to write. And for Ahzek's armor, yes it's this way. Basically speaking, GW made the Thousand Sons into super space aegyptians.**

**Last: the Blood Ravens have been hinted (and by that I mean that GW blatantly said so, but not explicitly) to be descendants of a loyalist group of the Thousand Sons. So I made it this way. Also, considering that Tzeentch is the god of plot's and trickery it would be hilarious for him to be taken by surprise. It happened once: and since then the brutish god of war, Khorne, is the strongest of the Dark Gods.**

**Remember, if someone wants an OC, name it and send it with a detailed description.**


	4. The Citadel

**Before I begin this chapter, there's a few things I want to comment:**

**First: I don't own Mass Effect (albeit I would love to), its developer is Bioware, and its owner is Electronic Arts.**

**Second: My initial idea was to get a whole fleet of imperials, UNSC and Sanghielli into the ME universe. I think that's not a good idea. The Imperium makes sense: they use a mean of faster than light travel that can get you lost for eternity. The other's...meh. And there's the addition that this is a plot used in eighty percent of the crossovers of Halo-Mass effect. ****So, instead, I will send a duo of badasses known to wreck things on their paths. **

**Third: my lore of Mass effect is rusty, so expect bloopers and delay. Right now, I'm writing this while watching a walkthrough of the game. Still, I have a few things clear: Shepard is a red haired female, she's native from Earth, and has become a War Hero in Elysium. She's too a survivor. Her name will be Catherine**

**Fourth: Read and enjoy my faithful followers.**

**Chapter 4: The Citadel**

**01:00 Citadel. Unkwon Location.**

**"**So this is the citadel" commented Johnson after whistling."Gotta admit that this is a nifty place"

It was a sight to behold, that was obvious. The Citadel wasn't just a city, it was a space station too. Smaller than High Carity, yes, but far more pretty and with less entities whose only interaction with Johnson would consist in him shooting them down before they hacked the sergeant into pieces. Not that meant much, it was a easy feat to achieve.

Ahzek wasn't thinking about the Citadel's beauty. Sure, it had its charm, but Tizca was better. Tizca was, in Ahriman's eyes, the embodyment of perfection. A perfection ruined by Horus and his manipulations... and the Thousand Sons' practices. "If only we had obeyed the Emperor... perhaps". He dicarted that idea. What happened belonged to the past, now he had to focus on the present, and the future. He turned his head to study his new job partner. The Doctor said he would be worthy. He understood, at least in part, why he said it.

He couldn't read his mind. No matter how hard he attempted it, independently of how subtle his approaches were. He just couln't enter his mind, it was surrounded by an iron wall, figuratively speaking. He wasn't a blank, for he didn't feel uneasiness.

"The citadel"murmured the Astartes"the main political center of this galaxy. A hundred species brought together, and without killing between themselves at the faintest shakedown" Certainly a concept alien to him. In his world, everyone hated the others (save the Tau, but those didn't count since nobody knew what really went inside their skulls).

And, hell, it was reasonable: Mankind was mainly under what amounted to a religious dictatorship with a stratification that gave goosebumps and enforced xenophobia; the Eldar were generally a troupe of condescending pricks (and the Dark eldar added to that prickery the desire to torture or murder brutally anyone at the first chance they got); the Orks were a bunch of hooliganistic green funghi with omnicidal tendencies; Chaos...well, better not to speak of Chaos, he wasn't sure what to think about it as a whole; and the Necrons and the Tyranids: the first were a legion of ancient beings that lost their organic bodies ages ago and now were waking and vaporizing whatever breathed, and the latter were a swarm of intergalactic locusts whose only thought and purpose was to eat organic matter.

But this union, this citadel, was flawed. Currently the power, the true capability to make decisions, resided in the salarians, the asari (a whole race of females, something he had never seen nor heard about in his ten millenia existence), and the turians. They made the backbone of the armies and got all the cake. Then they decided which races got a cut and how big it would be. Mankind was among said races, albeit it seemed somewhat reasonable, since they had entered in contact with the rest of galactic community recently. Also, it was commendable that they managed to get an embassy so quickly, considering how this "Citadel Council" liked to take his sweet time in doing things. Still, he had been indoctrinated in the idea that humans were above xenos, so he wasn't much happy about hearing that mankind wasn't at the top of the social and political piramid. In fact, he wasn't much happy about many things related to this Citadel. Yet he had to give them credit for how clean and calm the Great Ocean was here. It was...like floating in a hot water bathtub full of soap after a hard day of work, accompanied with a chocalate ice-cream and a cup of Amasec.

"So, any idea where we have to go?" asked Johnson.

"No, I thought we would be teleported to the exact place we were meant to be. He just gave me a name: Catherine Shepard, and told me we were meant to help her"

Both of them gazed the other. Then said at the same time: "fuck". Luckily they were given a snippet of what to do: a shooting began.

** Citadel Council chambers.**

Commander Catherine Shepard wanted to scream. She desired that those fools listened her. But no, the Council was stuborn like mule. And Saren had been their precious boy for too long. They even halted the investigations made by the C-Sec. That and he had been adamant and swift in his defense.

"Do you have anything else to add commander Shepard?" inquired the salarian.

It was over. None of them paid attention to Anderson, Udina, or her vision. So she saw no reason to keep this farce.

"You've made my decision" She really wanted to punch them "I won't waste my breath"

For the Council this was clear too, so they put a defnite end to this audience. The asari councilior spoke:

"The Council has found no evidence of any connection between Saren and the Geth." her voice was denoted no emotion "Ambassador Udina, your petition to have him disbarred from the Spectres is denied."

"I'm glad that justice was served." Saren was joyous, she was sure that he was doing the turian version of a smug.

That was it. No attention. In the end, no matter how much it was said about mankinds progression, it was all for naught in the eyes of the Council. They had the real power. And they had kicked the humans so hard the boot had left marks. Shepard had beaten a batarian attack once in Elysium, yet she felt powerless to make three fossiles open their eyes.

Mankind might have received the boot. But damn them if they thought a boot was enough to stop them. They would expose Saren by themselves. Naturally the first step should be gathering all the C-Sec had discovered. They would speak with Garrus Vakarian, the investigator in charge: he seemed really antagonized with Saren. She had too a few possible leads from Anderson. He wouldn't participate, not with his story with Saren, that would jeopardize the results yielded by her search. Still, she wasn't alone: there were Kaidan and Williams, Garrus (if she managed to convince him) and a few old friends she could ask for help. Curt, Finch and the rest of the gang (the Tenth Street Reds) were living in the citadel now. So why not call extra muscle?

They MUST be careful. The Citadel is a network of deals, agreements and alliances, many of them hidden in dark saloons, secret meetings or behind reinforced doors. An the Spectres dwelled in the most hidden ones. Some recurring jokes about Spectres said that they were force into celibate, since the moment they touched anyone else, it became classified and hidden in a vault. Preposterous, but hey, what can you expect of drunk Krogan mercenaries?

**22:40. Citadel Wards. Chora's Den**

They approached C-Sec, yes, but not Garrus. Catherine might have prefered him, though they couldn't find him. The man in front of he was disgusting. If drinking with Harkin wasn't at the very bottom of her to-do-list, it sure was close to it. His smirk grew more disgusting, obviously he hadn't been sober in a while. The question was if that while encompased hours or days, somehow the latter seemed more likely. She expressed her contempt for him, only to make him get more stupid. She was about to punch him when he commented how Anderson botched his mission to become a Spectre. That was the reason she searched him. Spectres were classifed information, their exploits, secret. He knew it, so he had a good network information: sure enough some of the briberies he accepted in his career included informants. And he surely knew were was Garrus.

"Garrus was sniffing around Dr. Mithcell's office. She runs the med clinic on the other side of the wards. Last time I heard he was going there."

That was all they needed, so they left the drunkard officer while he began to ramble about the turian, mainly badmouthing him while drinking. Ashley commented how was that the captain didn't mention he was once a Spectre, though Kaidan doubted Harkin was telling the truth.

Her trip towards that clinic would have been faster, no doubt. During the night, the wards bustled with activity, and many people came and went. Kadian fealt uneasy (he wasn't a fan of the crowds). That and people that wanted to speak to her. Little she knew during the Skyllian Blitz that her actions would make her a celebrity, no, an poster-material: the defender of mankind (or something in that cheesy line). Some wanted autographs, others more. All thought of the Blitz, none of the fact that he took part in the bloody business that came next: Torfan. She still had a few nightmares of it.

The oficial version of Torfan was that the Alliance raided the pirate base established in that moon. Said pirates were, in fact, a paramilitary force created by the batarians, so they could harass human settlements and avoid the Council's wrath. But after the blitz, the Alliance hammered Torfan. The batarians, noticing the movement of troops, sent reinforcements. As a result Torfan became a theatre of operations for two months. In that small scale war the batarians lost the base and the pirates, plus more than twenty two thousand soldiers. The Alliance nearly sixteen-thousand. Shepard's unit was among the casualties.

Their base was attacked by surprise, their force routed. Major Kyle managed to escape and reorganize the survivors, yet during a whole week she and more than a hundred troopers were under constant peril of capture, being behind the enemy lines. She still remembered her squadmates. And she didn't want to, not right now.

Before reaching the clinic they took a good sight of the Citadel, indeed. It wasn't a space station, it was a city, a melting pot of cultures from the whole galaxy.

"Certainly they have reason to be so careful with things"commented Kaidan."I wonder how hard it must be to deal with so many species, governments, and keep things running."

"Or maybe they just don't like humans"grumbled Williams.

She frowned. That hostility was a bit undue, in her opinion. Why? She would ask later. Now they got a more urging matter in hands.

Doctor Mitchell had a gun pointed towards her head. A human wielded the gun, and he didn't seem too friendly. They run towards the three thugs. The first one held the pistol even closer. He clutched Mitchell and, bang! he flew backwards. Garrus was the responisble. The C-Sec officer, clad in combat armor, held a pistol too, but he was obviously a better shot.

The gunfight began. Mitchell hid, the thugs took cover, and them charged with garrus. Projectiles flew around the turian, most of them missed, the others just grazed. The C-sec officer took charged the second thug. His ribs were broken. And then his head too. Garrus shot twice, in a short burst. Shepard took the last one with her gunshot _Betty Boom_ at point blank range. Good thing that cleaning things was also a chore of the keepers.

Catherine turned towards Garrus.

"Are you insane!?"She roared"What would happen if the hostage got shot!?"

Suddenly she felt ashamed, Garrus had acted properly:fast, and in the right moment with the correct luck. Mitchell was alive, safe. The turian might have acted without thinking, but the results spoke for themselves. Perhaps, if they had while thinking, she wouldn't speak to them. She made a dismisive gest to the officer, as if implying:"Sorry, for being hotbloded".

Mitchell told them that those thugs were sent by Fist, an agent of the Shadow Broker (the most important dealer of information in Citadel space) who had shifted loyalties to Saren. According to Garrus, that was quite a gambit, and the Spectre's offer might have been beyond hefty. Fist wanted to silence her for a quarian: a wounded female that had information, for the Shadow Broker. She didn't explain what kind information was. In fact, Mitchell didn't knew who shot her. But if Saren was willing to face the Shadow Broker for that data, it ought to wheigh the Normandy's weight in gold. A sparkle of inspiration came: It may be proof of Saren's deal with the geth! And that, Mitchell could assure: the information had somthing to do with the geth.

Ironic. That a quarian's hope for survival might be related to her species' doom. Centuries ago, the geth, a tipe of synthetic form of live, were created by the quarians as form of cheap and efficient lavor. They were good at their jobs. So good that one day they decided that they could do the tasks of governing themselves. So, they rebeled, kicked the quarian of their homeworld and their colonies and settled down. Since then the quarian lost their support with the citadel, for their careless actions. Deprived of an embassy in the citadel, and with no worlds, they wandered through the galaxy with their remaining ships. Now their species was facing a critical situations: after living for so long in the sterilized atmospheres of their fleets, their inmunes systems were downgrading, making them unable to breath normal air, and their numbers were dropping slowly.

Ironies apart, they had a clue now, and a goal with a time limit: they had to find the quarian, who was under Fist's vigilance, and had to reach her before Saren got his claws on her. And that race, according to Garrus had more players: a krogan mercenary, hired by the Shadow Broker. The krogan, though might come in handy.

** 23:50 C-Sec Academy.**

They left the med clinic, heading towards the C-Sec Academy. And they found Wrex, he was about to leave. He still had a few business with the C-Sec, consisting in defying the enforcers and state that Fist would die.

Urdnot Wrex was tall among the krogan, that was saying a lot. His face recalled Kaidan of those geckos that were now so popular on the colonies, except for those red murderous eyes. Not that it was saying much, krogans were reptilians, their eyes were the way it was meant to be.

"Do I know you, human?"

"I'm Shepard. Commander Shepard."

"I've heard about you, commander"affirmed the krogan with a mild amusement"and to what, or who, I owe the honor of acquainting with you?"

"Fist. We both want to deal with him, and back on Earth we have a saying: the more, the merrier."

"Fist knows you're coming"Stated Garrus." We have better chance of success if we work together."

"We krogans have another saying:find your enemy's enemy and you will find a friend."He grinned like a savage beast, his red eyes immobile, fixed on Catherine.

"Glad to have you on the boat."

**00:32. Citadel. Fist's Bar.**

Fist knew a krogan was coming. For this reason he closed his bar, and brought a few guards. What he didn't know was that Wrex wasn't alone. Nobody expected that,once the mercenary rammed the door and stormed the place, a turian C-Sec officer and a dozen humans, three from the military plus nine of the Tenth Street Reds, would follow him. He had eight wards. Two of them hid behind the door connecting to his office.

Wrex and Garrus took cover behind a round table. Bullets chipped the material. The gangers didn't flinch they kept firing. One of them was hit in back another, Finch, took a glancing wound on the knee, which felt as if an arrow got stuck there. Both of them fell to the ground, the first screaming in pain, the latter too, but less loud. On the otherside, the casualties had been crippling: Urdnot had blowed a head too careless for showing her scalp. Shepard wounded another guard, and Kaidan got the finishing shot. Ashley and two gangers pumped full of lead the third. Garrus got hit the fourth to fell's heart with a lucky shot (and twenty misses).

Two remained, hidden behind the bar. Urdnot rose twice to get a target, and twice he had to duck. They were good shots.

Catherine began to crawl while the gangers, on her orders, were giving "supressing fire". What she meant was that the Reds were emptying clips while shooting to the air. But, hey, now they didn't try to shoot them, for fear to get hit by a stray bullet. Ashely was already behind the bar, Kaidan too. She gestured the boys and the shooting stoped.

Now the trap was set. The two remaining guards tried to return fire, but before they fully got the picture three hostiles appeared right in front of the bar. Catherine shot her gunshot at pointblank range. At that distance the weapon never missed, it was a certainity both the hit and the termination of the enemy.

"Gung-ho!"Shouted one of the gangers, while mimicking a soldier."Serves right to those bastards for messing with Kath."

Two guards remained. twelve guns were pointed at them once they came out.

"Get out of here."Shepard didn't want more problems inside that bar."You better search a new boss."

They ran away.  
"Wow, I didn't think it would work so easily"Mused Garrus.

"Shooting down things isn't always the solution"Pointed Kaidan.

"But it's the funniest"Concluded Wrex.

Fist was sitting in his desk. His icy blue eyes fixed in the party. He sighed and threw his pistol, for he had no chance, nor enough bullets in that clip, of killing them all.

"I surrender"

"Where's the quarian?" Inquired Ashley.

"She must be here now, in the wards, awaiting for the Shadow Broker."He was lying for the Shadow Broker didn't meet the informants personally, instead he acted via a network of agent, most of whom didn't knew him either."Nobody meets the Shadow Broker. She doesn't know it, of course."He smirked"When she shows up, Saren's men will get her."

"And I'm supposed to forget your part in this?"Asked menacingly the commander while pointing her pistol.

"Look, I have already enough problems for crossing the Broker. I can tell you the that she's near the Markets, in the third alley. The one with the small square at the ending."He got up."Now I need to get out of here, I knew Saren's promise wasn't worth it. I must becom a ghost-"

Wrex shot him. He emptied the whole magazine of his two weapons. When he was finished, the criminal wasn't recognizable anymore, and the rest was horrified.

"Why did you kill him!?"Shouted Garrus.

"He said he needed to be a ghost, I helped him"the krogan smiled"If you haven't forgotten it, I was paid to kill him."

Both stared at each other. Garrus had his weapon ready, but at such a close distance, and with so many people here, he feared to wound others. Wrex, using hand to hand combat, didn't have that problme, nor moral incovenient to do so if the need arised.

"We will settle this latter"growled the turian, and to his anger, the krogan grinned.

**00:55 Citadel Wards. Market alley.**

"The quarian has come" thought Vitalis, one of Saren's best agents."What a fool."

Quarians wore always black or gray enviro-suits, pressurized pieces of cloth that denied contact with the atmosphere and the rest of the enviroment. This one was no exeption (only a mad quarian would venture outside their ships without a enviro-suit). Her suit had a hood too, not that she would need it, the helmet's visor was polarized so nobody could distinguish her face.

When she saw the turian, she got wary. "Not so stupid"muttered Vitalis"He has seen the trap, albeit she lacked the brains to foresee it." It was always the same those with loose mouth and curious eyes paid for them with the brains necessary to shut up.

"Where's the Shadow Broker?"

She sounded so innocent. It was a pity to kill her. He sighed: it was his work and duty. Nobody said he was going to like everything he had to do.

"Where's the evidence" He asked. It was her first and only chance to stay alive.

"The deal's off".

A pity. It was going to be an overkill. Nearly twenty weapons pointed towards her. She was as good as dead. Two more agents stepped towards the quarian.

Then the cavalry arrived.

Catherine was leading her party. Curt and the four gangers were there too, as well as Urdnot, Varrus, Kaidan and Ashley. Finch and the others were left at the bar. wounded wouldn't be of much use and were lyable to give them more trouble than help.

Another shooting was staged. But this time numbers weren't on their side. Those agents had training and experience, as it was denoted by the fact that they began to fire on sight and that they were accurate. Tom, one of the youngest gangers, got killed. She managed to get a hold of her feelings: his death would be mourned later. All of the boys there knew that their lifes were in danger, during and (most likely) after this. They had been her friends for so long that she had passed on her stubborness, and said yes without a second, and in some cases neither a first, thought.

Vitalis' men took a good pounding too, the quarian was a biotic, someone able to manipulate the element zero, present in all life-forms. With that ability she sent fliyng two agents, and wounded a third with said ability.

The other group was being pined. When Saren said they had to bring a portable cannon model K-11L, he thought he was joking. Gladly he hadn't said it: first, because he would be dead by no; second, because it had been useful. Saren, with a great acumen, had foresighted this possible scenario and decided it wasn't worth running into unnecessary risks.

Those crates they were using as cover wouldn't matter once they got a good angle. But in that space, finding the angle had to be done via trial an error. In the meanwhile they would keep exchanging bullets (they had taken two hits from that position) until they ran dry or they changed their strategy. Charging blindly was out of the choices. Why nullify their numerical advantadge with a skirmish in a closed space?

Instead he would finish his main assigment. The quarian was on the ground now. She had a nasty wound in the stomach.

"Where's the evidence?" How could she not understand that she had no other choice, aside from death?

No response. "Remember this, Vitalis, for this a sin you must bear in order to preserver the galactic safety" Saren was the only capable of stop the humans. If they kept being unchecked soon the galactic stability would crumble.

He heard a sound, a voice. Someone was screaming. Then he got crushed.

**01:04 Citadel Wards.**

Ahzek and Johnson arrived in time. They didn't get a clear picture at first, but once they saw the turian pointing their gun towards the quarian they got a rough idea.

"They want to silence that fellow"murmured Johnson."But why?"

"She has information that can, no, that will be nefarious for their leader"explained Ahzek.

Johnson's eyes narrowed. He was either wondering if he was telling the truth or how the Astartes knew it. It didn't matter now.

"We have no time to argue now." They didn't have time to reach them. And now he didn't have time to elaborate a mental attack subtle enough to break the... turian's mind yet avoid collateral damages on the... quarian, or so they called it.

"Got any idea, big boy?"

"Better than that."

He jumped. Then used his powers to forge a simple spell of mass acceleration. He was going like a cannonball, and with the kinetic force of a piano falling down (okey, no, several times more than that).

"For Tizcaaaaaaaaaahhaahhh,oh my Emperooor!"

He began with a battle-cry, the last part was him losing control of his trajectory. He landed over Vitalis, squishing him under his sheer mass (his power armor was around 200 kilograms of weight and he weighed like 150 kilograms more). Tali, who saw him coming, used her biotics to move herself fast enough.

He rose up, waving his halberd with deadly speed and elegance. It was a dance of blade and blood. The other two agents got decapitated, and chopped into pieces in less than five seconds. A good dinamic entrance.

Johnson followed him, wielding a spartan laser. The jolts of energy pierced shields and armor alike. Meat got teared in scorching pain. First he took cover then began to shoot everything on sight.

The Astartes instead, stood defiant (or attempting to, for he still remembered his lame fall) in the middle of the square. Another turian charged him with a sword of energy in hand. Truly an interesting trophy to study later. It was ressilient enough as to withstand a slash of her halberd, but gave no additional protection, as he could observe from hacking the arms of its wielder. He then took his pistol and fired once. One out. He had three on his marker.

And Johnson had the same score.

Saren's men where shocked now, from a two front attack and their loss of leadership. Ahzek then carefully prepared a psychic attack. He barely heard Johnson's shouting and cursing (cursing the Astartes for not helping him). He no longer felt the quarian's mind, nor... wait... that was Catherine Shepard? "No!"thought the sorceror"focus on the job and don't botch it." Focus was essential when making spellcraft.

Done. With a flick of the Captain's mind, the assassins perished. He could hear again the shoutings of Johnson. He didn't understand why he was shouting though. He was a mighty warrior, he could have killed all the enemies. Only that he wouldn't have done it in time to save the quarian.

And that brought him to an interesting question: Why he was so interested in the quarian? He obviously could have extracted the mental data he needed to get the evidence and let her die. Was it because she, in a certain way, could care for mankind? He saved a xeno for not being an enemy of his charges? Was there another reason?

Why he had done it? Why?

He interrupted his mental struggle. Shepard was coming. He felt something interesting in her. A great power looming in her mind. Something young but already strong.

"Are you Catherine Shepard?"It was more a formality than a question.

"Yes"Wariness roamed in her (and Johnson's) eyes."Who are you?"

" First Captain Ahzek Ahriman and Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson"the Astartes made both introductions"We have come to help you."

**End of chapter four people. Again I paid attention to the reviews. SO here it goes:**

**-First: for the Guest, if you don't like Astartes I invite you to take a heavy bolter, stick it in your solid waste conduit and open fire. The others feel free to figure out what I said.**

**-Second: As gwb99 recommended I will try to make clearer the change in POW. So I will break more the chapters and make them shorter to avoid confusion. That's the numer one reason that we don't get to hear Castor and Lasky in this chapter.**

**-Third: Exams are coming, so I will slow down (more) my writting. Still I'll keep publishing.**

**-Fourth. For Samuel: I will keep in mind your reviews. I just didn't remember the amount of damage the _Infinity_ could do. And as for the Spartans... remember that that's Castor opinion. After ten thousand years of serving mankind, and Ward's propaganda, they consider that space marines can pretty much crush everything. This is true for some of the bigshots (i.e. the important chapter masters or the main figures of the traitor legions, like Calgar, Draigo the Mary Sue, Abaddon thirteen-black-crusades-and-still-not-getting-past-Cadia, and Ahzek Ahriman, among others.)**

**-Fifth: For the second Guest (the one that sounds nice and seems intelligent): yeah I'm sad too, since I wasn't around neither. I simply got my hands in an older friend's codexes. Sadder still is the fact that Games Workshop still hasn't advanced the storyline nor seems to standarize things. Hell, according to writers a cruiser's length can range from a kilometer (minimum size for warp-drive according to fluff) to a dozen. Dammit, it is so hard to reach an agreement!? And no, the flood is NOT Tiamat. They are more dead than a snail in a salt mine. Tiamat is a goddess from babilonian mithology. Why her name? She's the goddess of babylonian chaos. Which is associated with the ocean. Considering that the warp (the realm of chaos) is also called the Great Ocean, and that she, in fact, commanded legions of daemons and dark forces against mankind, I thought it might be interesting.**

**-Sixth: Leave reviews if you find something odd. I will thank you... unless it's something balls-to-the-wall retarded like guest (the first one)**


	5. The Siege of Sanghelios begins

**Gentlemen this chapter will give us an insight on a practic example of the Imperium's relationship with xenos... without blowing the shit out of them on sight. **

**After pondering for a while, I decided the exact date in Warhammer universe. I said five years after DOWII:Retribution, but the date of the Third Aurelian Crusade is never mentioned. I've reached a conclusion after rereading Dan Abnett's (Mighty is he!) Gaunt's Ghosts novels (been quite a while, and more untill the fourteenth book comes. No, seriously, Dan, how can it take until 2015, a four years' span and a two years' delay, to write a book of 120 pages!?). Leaving aside my ramblings and rage, I said: Ghosts, I need Ghosts here. **

**But I'm not willing to trample with some of the most epic characters ever made by a GW worker. So I will add a new generation. The Sabbat Crusade ended in 778M41 (that's 40.778 for those not acquaintanced with the Imperium's dating system) so I think I will place it fifty years later, in 830.M41. The Ghost's data will come in a note I will publish on the next chapter.**

**And thanks to Sammuel and Guest. When Sammuel said that the _Infinity _had enough firepower as to wreck a Covenant fleet I dispaired to find a solution that didn't involve rewriting most of the story or make it boring. But with Guest I got an epiphany that showed my the right path. Said idea will be further expanded in coming chapters**

**In addition, seeing how few blood I've shed (I would make a poor Khornate, no doubt) I've prepared a surprise. It includes mass effect things.**

**To those ignorant of the Guard and Navy Organization, here's a snippet of the upper echeleons:**

**-Lord Commander Militant. The biggest wig around the Imperial Guard. Theoretically commands the whole guard but, he limits himself to defend its political interests.**

**-Lord Commander and Lord High-Admiral. Supreme commanders of each Segmentum.**

**-Lord General Militant: commander of a theatre of operations/sector.**

**-Lord Admiral: commander of all naval assets in a sector.**

**-Lord General: commander of a group of armies**

**-Admiral: leads a fleet.**

**-General: leads an army. Bellow it there's Marshall, Liutenant General and Major General. But truth be told they are virtually unexistent, the only character ever mentioned to hold on of these three ranks was Macaroth, and it was a week before being named Warmaster (that's getting a fast promotion and the rest is rubbish).**

**-Colonel: leads a regiment. A regiment's force ranges to a few hundred to more than 100.000 guardsmen.**

**-Captain (navy): commands a ship**

**Also, Castor and his men aren't the only imperials there roaming in the Halo Milky Way.**

**Chapter 5.-Lost in space.**

**4th of July 2561. 22:40 UNSC _Infinity._**

The meeting had been interesting, to apply a polite term. Certainly the Imperium could be a good and bad comparative towards the UNSC: good, becaus it was demonstrated that the UNSC cared a lot for the citizenship (in relative terms); bad because it could suggest that the UNSC was following a similar path.

Nevertheless, the imperials stranded in this system would be a problem. For now they were going to accompany them towards the nearest ressuply point. And due to the damage they suffered, his ship was unable to return UNSC space. Nor were the Imperial Navy's vessels. Apparently their resources were meant to keep them until they arrived to Ursa, a rebel system. But after that they were meant to use the planets' resources.

Their situation, thus, left both groups with one choice, one he wasn't sure to be the best, though it was the safest: instead to human worlds, they would resupply in Sanghelios. It was the closest planet who had enough capability to supply that many ships without straining its assests.

But now he was more concerned about what happened during the battle. He was speaking to the chief engineer now, Samuel G. Jackson.

"So, are you saying we got sabotaged?"

"It's the only reason I can find"he wasn't lying."Otherwise I can't figure out why they only inhabilited three of our MAC and a most weapons systems. If the Remnants or the Insurgents were involved we would be a pile of space scrap by now, sir. And it was really subtle, a series of malfunctions that would take effect once real activity began."

Sabotage. But why? He immediately got an idea. He didn't like it at all, yet somehow made sense. The MAC's sabotage, the bigger number of naval assets deployed in New Cyreanaica. "Apparently you will have a good share of disgusts, Tom." He thought sourly.

**5th of July 2561. 11:00 _Emperor's Wrath_**

"Fucking Karamazov"cursed Merrick" It's all his fucking fault."

"Indeed."Was all Castor dared to say.

Yes the main culprit of their predicament was Fyodor Karamazov. The Lord Inquisitor was considered the arch-type of his office: brutal, relentless and with more than a few loose screws. Castor had always respected the Ordos' task, specially the defense of the Ordo Malleus against the chaos-spawn. If asked about Adrastia, the cadian would have said no bad thing about her, just appraisal for her person.

But the inquisitor was bonkers, a madman with the inquisitorial rosette. He was one of the most paranoids in a organization that was supposed to spy it's allies and battle-brothers. So, when news came to Segmentum Comand of Karamazov's trip to that sector, the Imperial Guard and Navy suddenly found themselves with a surplus of new campaigns. Even a few Lord Generals began campaings with just a regiment. Lord-Admirals abandoned their headquarters to join the military effort. And so Castor and Bonet ended up in the same ship. And said ship was stuck in a nasty business.

Gabriel Angelos and the Blood Ravens didn't provide more information. They didn't have nothing more, they said. They had, only that it held a secret of the Chapter. In that aspect, the Blood Ravens seemed successor of the Dark Angels. Gabriel was a good Astartes, faithful to the Codex, but the chapter's secretism ran long before him, Kyras or any known chapter master. They were known to be part of one of the earliest foundings, yet the Imperium's records only tracked them until the Age of Aposthasy, circa the 36th Milenium.

"We know nothing here"Grumbled Bern."We are literally blind: no signals, no station, nothing."

"Yes, it truly seems so"

They weren't actually deprived from information. The UNSC kindly gave them several archive that he could read with his data-slate. He sipped his re-caff mug. It was stall, which said a lot of their situation. Usually, a commanding officer would receive only the best. If a dozen guardsmen were deprived of their commodities to do so, then pity the poor souls.

He was, though, a good commander, for the guard stantards. He cared for his guards and procured to give them a good train of supplies. Yes, he had no qualms on sending wave upon wave of soldiers to a certain death if he achieved victory. But if he managed to slay the enemy with the fewest losses, then better, more men for the next battle. He tried that, but he would shrug if causalties rocketed. "Not this time, now we are too few."

His forces barely amounted to 100.000 guardsmen. He could recruit from the camp followers' youngsters. It was said that when adding the retinue of wives, kids, lovers, shopkeepers, etc. (all those that maintained the guardsmen needs and vices), to the regiment's numbers, they doubled. Still he lacked manpower. And manpower to what? Set a Great Crusade of his own?

What was his purpose now? If there was no God-Emperor here. What meaning had his life? Stranded, without purpose, they would all perish into oblivion. Unless a miracle happened.

"And for that miracle to happen, we need to stay alive"the Lord Admiral Bonet, caught everyone by surprise."We are thinking the same, aren't we? and in this issue that's my opinion: we must stay together, no matter what. The Emperor protects the rightful, no matter where they are."

He was either a pious individual or a fool. Considering that his sector ran smoothly and with no pirates, and that he maintained their squadron in one piece, he vouched for the early.

Castor didn't want to talk about miracles. He was a general, not a saint nor a scholar. Miracles, for him, were, mostly, things that changed the tide of a battle apparently lost or lies that could be used to boost morale. Oh, yes, he believed in miracles when he saw them, but otherwise he held a healthy amounf of skepticism. A skepticism he didn't hope to use when confronted with Lasky's data.

Currently the UNSC was the military branch of the Unified Earth Government (UEG), but during the Covenant-Human war, it took the reins. A sound move, for a war is won by soldiers, not squabbly politcians. Still the "Covenant" outnumbered their armies and fleets, and clearly outclassed the latter in the early and middle stages of the conflict. The numerical situation didn't worsen, in fact it got slightly better with the time. Still, the breach was despairing. The naval disadvantadge costed dearly many battles where ground forces had emerged victorious. Despite that, once mankind triumphed it was a sight to behold.

Then in 2552, the balance of power changed. No, it was more accurate to say that the balance simply was sent to the Warp with a kick. When they found Holy Terra, one of the Covenant's ruling race's (the caste of the so called "prophets") most important officials attacked recklessly. He got killed. As a result: the elites (the main warrior caste) were admonished and punished. The ranks of main commanders fell now into their bitter rivals:the Brutes. Tension escalated, and it exploded when the "Arbiter" Thel'Vadam, rose in rebellion. He had discovered that their holy sites were nothing more than super-weapons capable of wiping out all sentient life in the galaxy.

"Heh, if it weren't for us humans."began Bern. He stopped for a moment while adjusting his servo arm (a memento of their fight with Kyras)."If it weren't for us humans, who would get caught in the middle, I would actually encourage that religion. Certainly we should try to extend it to the orks."

"Cannot think if they qualify as intelligent life"Replied Merrick.

Everyone in the Lord Admiral's chambers burst into laughter. Orks were considered by the Imperium as a mob (a big mob) of beasts with weapons. In certain places not even that.

" This documents carry a grim truth." Pointed Bern.

"They are allied with xenos" Castor was apalled at the notion."They support, both politically and economically this "Sangheili Empire" and, more specifically, its soverign, _Kaidogun _Vadam."

"The hell means that odd title?"

"Let me see, Merrick... it means: chief of all clans."

"So we can deduce they are a tribal society, using the term loosely"

Castor was taking a liking for Ghazzi Van Vorp. The young man was intelligent, and knew how to read between lines. He wondered if the noble of Volpone might rise against him. His regiment was good, he was charismatic and persuasive. And had two pyskers, out of the nine that made the Correctionary Force (if it had any sens to keep naming it after a rebellion that wasn't there anymore.). No, he wouldn't for Castor had a powerful weapon against him: Braum Stubbs and his 102nd regiment. Against the Daunting Company, Van Vorp's chimeras would be smithen in seconds. Braum wasn't a concern for Castor. The kauravan was too blunt and haughty to get the others' support: Van Vorp was out of question; the cadian colonels? not likely; Redeye's catachans? He would stick a grenade in Braum's ass before helping him. The droptroopers of Norion were a different issue, for their colonel wasn't a strong character.

Castor had just a person who could question his authority, in case they bumped into him: when the UCF (Ursan Correctionary Force) was en route, Segmentum Command issued reinforcements (meaning that some general hadn't found a place to wage war for the Imperium.). The reinforcements consisted in five regiments, two of them from Cadia (and a company of 150 kasrkins). It's general was Gregor Sturnn of the Cadian 412th. That gritty old bastard. Castor pursed a bit his lips. Though, in the case he was in this "world", they were bound to be rivals, his senior fellow had been a good friend.

**10th of July, 2561. Sanghelios.**

Thel'Vadam was the first of his kind. For the first time, and since three years ago, his people was unified (truly unified) under one banner that belonged to them, not some alien race. The prophets didn't see more than tools in them. Now it was time to forge them and make a path for their species.

It was a daunting task. The humans had a myth that spoke about a man of formidable strenght, Hercules. He felt like him: he had great strenght, a lot of power, yet his challenges were many, complex and, sometimes, their solutions self-excluding.

For millenia, his people were mainly warriors. No, they were warriors safe for a few excuses. And their problems couldn't be solved by salvos of plasma nor massive space ordinance. No, precisely that was their problem, the fact that they knew of violence. And beating their swords into plowshares wasn't going to be easy.

Sangheilos needed soldiers.A nation always needed them. To quote another human, Mao and something more: "Politcal power is born from the fire of guns." Yes, they would continue to maintain a strong army (he still needed to fully assure his possition against the rest of kaidon, and there was the Remnants' threat), but, with the downfall of the Covenant structure, they were in need of historians, scientists, shopkeepers and economists, bankers, lawyers and doctors. The old ways had to change, or they would disappear like the prophets.

In the second aspect, their traditional enemies, mankind, had proved to be helpful. But to prevent a colonialism scenario, were the outsiders dominated the economy, he took certain measures: first and foremost the foreigners couldn't establish business on their own. They needed a trading partner from the local population. They could own the majority of the actions but they couldn't own more than 50% of its capital but couldn't run things without the advise of the Sangheili. Second, companies had to implement formation and specialization programs for the sangheili workers, which were to constitute a third of the workforce (thought this proportion could vary from between sectors). Next was a R&D agreement with the UNSC that would materialize in four new acadamies, three in Sangheilos (and one in his keep) and one in Kathumee, their foremost colony. Third: during four years, the Sangheili products would have lower tariffs in human markets. After that, their products would have the same tariff.

Certainly those regulations implied the loss of inversions from enterprisers. Yet it was the right path to achieve a fully functional economy, not just a means of arm and maintain an eternal army. Still, many investors came to Sangheilos. Earth and the remaining colonies were passing through a baby-boom, a period of high birth rate. And if they wanted to maintain the living standards, and repair the economy, they needed more markets. A fledging human district was flourishing at Vadam Keep. He could see several signs of companies, holding both human an Sangheili names: Spencer & 'Ramor, Mitzubishi-Glovaak and an already powerfull bank, the Harvin & Nobom brothers. They had gained much influence in the Empire, being the first private bank to be founded, back before the Empire was founded.

In early 2554 Ukze and Thel Nobom shamed their clan when suggested the foundation of a bank, they were banished and sought asylum at Vadam Keep. Then Derek and Edward Harvin bumped into them. He didn't knew how they met, nor why they tagged together, but by august, Sangheillos had a new bank. And right now they were the major power in private finances. By late 2560, they had more than 800 offices, twelve of them in UNSC territory, and still counting. The state had helped at the beginning but they managed fine by themselves.

He hoped for the two brothers to become a sign of a new age, not one of strife, but cooperation among nations. He hoped briefly, for he had many things to do. Reports, paperwork and audiences. Tedious work. He was versed in battle, not bureaucracy. The Kaidogun nearly smashed his desk against the wall when an old friend came. Two, indeed. Fleet Master (a new rank) Rtas'Vadum and Eupa 'Marus, Field Marshall of the planetary defense force (PDF). He got acquaintaced with them for many years. And for a long time they were his best friends and brothers in arms. Another Sangheili, this time a female: Uru' Rotor, the new special forces commander. She was the finest of her clan, being able of defeat in close combat over a dozen males at the same time. When Vadam allowed females to join the ranks of the Navy and Army she was the first candidate to assume the Spec-Ops command, since Vadum, as Fleet Master, couldn't be related to two branches at the same time.

Her body silhouette was more stylized, more soft, and less blunt and bulky than males. He was barely six feet nine inches tall, yet he had seen her lift (and then throw) a male two feet taller than her and clad in full harness.

They were all here: Vadum with his azure armor of fleetmaster, Eupa with his maroon armor, and Uru with an adapted white/grey armor. Their reuinion meant something big had happened.

"Speak"

"As you wish, oh great one."Uru's voice was akfat honey." Three ships have suddenly appeared in system."

"None of them match our known models, not even counting forerruners."Stated Eupa."What is more shocking is that we cannot find the energy signatures characteristic of slipsace drives."

No slipspace? That got his attention. Slipspace was considered by many as a constant of space travel. Humans used it even before contacting the Covenant. The space-faring races of the Covenant used that too before integration. Even the Forerruners and the precursors themselves used them. That lead to two answers: they were technologically primitive, since they lacked a faster-than-light means of travel. The other one was that they were technologically advanced and operated on a different base.

"Give me all the feeding we get."Urged the Kaidogun."And prepare a dimplomatic party. I will lead it myself."

_**Cadian Hammer's **_**bridge. 14:43 10th of july 2561. Near Sanghelios.**

Gregor Sturnn couldn't remember a time where his head had hurt so much. First, because the last time was long ago. Second, because he still felt a great pain.

He shrugged at the pain. The bridge was a pure chaos. He wondered how were faring the other ships: _Cadian Fist _and _Pacifier through purge. _"Not well" He conceded. In his nearly eleven decades of service he had been in nasty situations, this one was nothing in comparison of Lorn V. "Never show your back to an eldar. Better, never show an eldar nothing beyond your guns' barrels."_  
_

"My general." An ensign approached him."Captain Mcpaunet is dead."

He had been sent to the Golden Throne, his service finished. Sturnn made a silent prayer in his honor.

"General."Another ensign begged for his attention."We have contacts."

"Hostile?"

"Not sure, my general. They nearly sum up a hundred. None of them match any known model."

A new xenos race? If it were so, by the Emperor, they would anhilate them. He had few ships, though. Perhaps he shouldn't engage head on.

"My lord, boarding party is in coming. Several vessels apporaching!"

Eight ships, six of them the size of a Luna-Class cruiser, approached, indeed. The nearest one was barely the size of a small corvette. The remaining one ought to measure at least eight kilometers. Size didn't make might, though, so he was unimpressed.

"Let's go to their encounter. Send an order to Colonel Rawne, I want his best snipers in position. Ready weapon batteries."

"Is it necessary?"Though his friend Pious, regimental commissar, was one of the most aggressive men he knew, he could also fit as one of the most tactful and careful.

"Maybe yes, maybe no. And for the first time in my career, I would prefer the latter."

**Spacecraft bay of the_ Cadian Hammer. _Twenty minutes later.**

Ibram Rawne was a young commander. Barely thirty. Still it didn't meant much, he had more experience than many commanders twenty years older than him. In the New Tanith Ghosts,a sergeant had the same responsabilities than a colonel. If he was in charge of soldiers then he took part in the decision progress. So, since being a sergeant, fourteen years ago, he had been in charge of soldiers, taking decisions.

Chief Scout Geheraa apt Niht was awainting his orders. Over twenty ghosts were sniping the entrane. Nearly a dozen thread fethers well placed, and nearly a hundred soldiers had their "special" guns and straight silver ready. None of them were on sight, all were carefully hidden and concealed.

The old general felt uneasy. For not only the detail prepared by Rawne, but the whole New Tanith 4th was there. None on sight of course. Some used camocloaks, others, hell, they were good at hiding. The Emperor had provided them with good skills, and the Warmaster Macaroth with better gear, both during the last stages of the crusade and after it. The scalpel of the Emperor, they were called.

He had other things to worry about other than a few thousand curious guardsmen staring at him. He had a encounter to deal.

They were in the dark. No auspex, half the weapon batteries still out of service, churned comunication systems. It surprised him that they were still breathing. And he thanked the God-Emperor for a functional gravity system, inspite of it functioning at 30% capability.

"This is it men, the moment of truth."Thought the grizzly veteran.

A dropship came in. It was slick. Sturnn quickly associated it with the Tau. Had they bumped into a stronghold of the eastern fringes? He discarted rapidly the idea. Tau lacked ships comparable to an Imperial battleship in size, let alone deploy such a numerous fleet composed mainly of big vessels.

The doors opened. His general staff (Rawne, Gunther of the Krieg's Death korps, LeClair of the Elysian Droptroopers, father Keindrel, Pious and psyker Abraham) stiffened in unison when they saw the xenos. It may be that things would come to blows.

The sensation of stiffement also affected the Sangheili delegation. Humans? They wore different uniforms, some of them were weird, specially the one that had a bowl (that was his impression) in the head. He would discover soon their identity. The emperor noted that some of the guard force murmured. What they were asking was anyone's guess, yet he had, obviously, a clear idea of the subject. Truly, they seemed different. Most of the humans he had met until now didn't feel like them. It was like a force made from conquerors of a thousand worlds, prideful of they works and contemptuous of the lesser beings.

The one in charge (he had more condecorations than anybody, was at the middle and his age meant a great deal of seniority) came forward. His voice was raspy and hardened. His eyes full of wariness and, perhaps, hatred. Though the Emperor had always struggled to fully understand human body language, he could understand that much.

"General Gregory Sturnn." He presented himself while offering, akwardly, his hand-"Cadian 412th of the Imperium of man's Imperial Guard."

"You must pardon my insolency."Vadam took and shook his hand with vigor."But you will have to tell me of this Imperium of Man, for no human has told about us about its existance."

Sturnn smiled. They knew about humans and not the Imperium? He may be near Ursa then. That or a new insurgent territory. Either way, they would hunt down those traytors. He began to fell the effects of the fad of gravity, the system was beginning to fail. Perhaps... yes, why not?

"My dear-"

"Kaidogun Thel'Vadam, sovereign of the Sangheili Empire.

So the liege of this xenos had come to their encounter. Interesting. Either he was a fool or he was fearless of his fate.

"Your Grace."He revolted at using the term with xenos, but he would let them carry the wanton for the time being."There's many things we can, and must, discuss, but you must note how gravity is fading away. We suffered great damage after exiting the Warp.

"The Warp?"asked the kaidogun, but then refrained himself of further pressing his inquiry. If Sturnn had told him that, it was obvious that he didn't want to continue the meeting under this conditions."If you think it's adecuate, we can continue our meeting at defense station Qikost-12, our ships can tow yours.

"Thank you, Lord Vadam".

**Somwhere between worlds.**

"Damn."Cursed silently the Doctor.

"Another worlds is going to fall." Commented Rosalind.

"Oh, c'mon! Don't be such a fatalist. They can, and will, fend them"

"There's one of the Harbingers leading the Enemy's horde."

And to that, Robert could say nothing. The forces of Tiamat were moving too, and one of its top liutenants had set his eyes on Sangheilos.

**Qikost-14. 19:07 10th of july 2561.**

This wasn't right. Negotiating with xenos, with friends of xenos. It sure as sure was heretical. Pious, and pretty much everyone else thought it. Only father Keindrel vocalized his discontent. Everyone understood their predicament. Sometimes the Emperor provided help in strange ways. Albeit, if he were to believe his father, General Rawne, the Emperor never gave a fuck of his guardsmen.

He was much alike as his father, except for the eyes. He was musculous, blackhaired and fair skinned, but his eyes weren't the daggers his father used to stare others to death. He had the soft, blue eyes of his mother. Aside from that he was a portrait of his sire. Hell, he had even copied his tatoo in the eye. He had other tatoos, as fitting to a good Tanith (one couldn't be called so if he hadn't tatooed), but that ripped off tatoo was the most visible.

Elim Rawne, commander of the New Tanith 2nd, the Crimson Knives, was a savage man in combat. A well channeled savagery, restrained with enough sense and Tanith instincts, yes, but savagery in the end. Ibram was rash, but he didn't carry things to such extents.

He heard a noise, it was Geheraa, the nightgane. Her greenish skin denoted his origyn, the marshes hidden in Gereon, her feathers coat, her roots, a culture long forgotten by the Imperium. Only her language implied her relation to the imperium as a whole.

"Looks like this lizards feel talkative."

"Too much perhaps."Groaned Rawne."We should give them straight silver, that's all."

The nightgane pursed her soft lips. Her brown eyes swallowing her commanding officer.

"Women, fething women." Ibram's father always thought that having women in fighting duty wasn't a good idea. Ibram didn't pay much attention in this aspect, since the Tanith general's bias was mainly caused by Jessie Banda, his best sniper.

It was a trap, Rawne was sure of that. His father had often been called paranoid, and who wouldn't be called so if he or she had survived for so long fighting in a resistance war against the Ruinous powers? Some said he had inherited, or learned, that paranoia. If being wary and careful was paranoia then so be it.

Sturnn had commited a great mistake. His forces were now dispersed in many diferent stations (Qikost-10 to Qikost-15 and Suban-1 to Suban-3) and where vulnerable to a possible attack. Though they seemed friendly, in appearence, they were xenos in the end. Their navigators may have gone bonkers, their ships might be a wreck, but they had entered now deep inside the wolves maws.

"They look talkative"He echoed his chief scout."That might be worse than hostile, for they might hide daggers below tons of honeyed words."

"Your mistrusts has its reasons, human."

Both guardsmen jumped upon hearing Uru. The Spec-Ops was well trained in stealth operations, and his camouflage systems had been active for a while. She was as silent as the ghosts scouts.

"Not to long ago we were locked with you humans in total warfare. Indeed our race, technically speaking, is still at war with mankind, since the Remnants are stubborn enough to refuse Vadam's offer of pardon."

"So you have been enemies with mankind."

"Other times."Shrugged the massive xenos."Up until less than a decade ago we thought that the forerunners were gods. What else could they be? we thought that said ancient race, dowed with knowledge unrivaled by no civilization on the whole history, became gods, thus abandoning the material plane. And we came to revere their works as landmarks towards the same path of ascension."

Rawne still didn't see... oh, now he understood the point, or at least got an idea about what was coming next.

"When we first encountered the humans, the Sangheili formed the backbone of the Covenant, a union of species to strive towards 'The Great Journey' The prophets, our leaders, upon discovering that mankind was trampling with the 'Gods' works, had a fit."She chuckled sourly."And then all the mess began: they said that humans were heresy, a stain that had to be cleansed through the fires of war."

"Haven't heard of anything so stupide."Commented the nightgane sarcastically . The Emperor knew that certain Ecclesiarchy and Inquistion would do the same with the xenos.

"Stupid beyond measure. And our damage to your would have been utterly irrepairable had we conquered Sol."

Both Ibram and Geheraa's eyes turned into plates. They had attacked Holy Terra!?

Uru caught their expressions. She pondered: they didn't seem from the UNSC, so they were alien to many things of the conflict. The conversation carried on and soon the Tanith managed to form most of the puzzle.

**Qikost-12. 20:25 10th of July of 2561.**

The Imperial delegation was formed by Sturnn, Gunther Von Zemürbung and Lachete Leclair. The three most senior officers, which in case of the krieger meant a lot. The Death Korps casualties usually where four times more serious than other regiments, to say the least. Kriegers, in order to redeem themselves for their forefathers' treason centuries ago, fought the most vicious attrition warfare. How a planet so damaged could sustain so many regiments and keep things running was an enigma, one he wouldn't want to resolve. If the rumors were true... He shuddered.

Gunther was levelheaded, for a krieger. Still, he had that obssession passed down since his first days in the rank and file of wearing the breather nearly at all times. Krieg's toxical enviroment (the toll the loyalists had to pay in order to maintain their world in the Emperor's blessed groove) made its use a must. The officer was indeed a dreadful sight: his ghastly helmet-mask with a golden aquila's head as a crest and a skull in the forefront. His blue grey grat coat with golden epaulets. His trousers were the same color as the coat, with black mounting boots. His cuirass (a souvenir from his days as a death rider), had been polished polished this afternoon.

Lachete wore a khaki uniform and a deep blue beret. He was indeed a burly man. Not as beefy as Gunther, but sure he had his biceps. He was a jarhead by all accounts. A jarhead with a big nose.

The other side was leaded by Vadam, clad in his ornated golden armor. Next to him stood councilor Xytan, in white armour and with his oversized headress. Behind him was Vadum. There was another individual: Hiwas A. Treytor, a human. Hiwas, ambassador of the UEG on Sanghelios, was a lean man, scrawny perhaps. Gregory Sturnn didn't care much, since he had dealt with the Tanith. What bothered him was to speak with a traitor to the Imperium.

He gritted his teeth. Up until now, their side had held the short stick. Vadam could be a xenos, but he was mostly rational and his reasonings had been diffuclt to fend off. The ambassador was too a good piece of work. Let alone the wily old (or so he had been told) councilour. For hours they had been haggling with skill and ingenuity, and the Imperium had lost the brunt of the battle.

"So, this are the basis of our agreement. We will help in repairing your ships, in exchange we may analize your plasma and ship weaponary. Your troops will be garrisoned, either on planet surface or in space stations, in exchange of studying these 'psykers' and-" He got cut off by a minor.

"My lord."The minor hastily kneeled." A strange energy signal has appeared in our sensors. It's beyond anything we have ever observed, it even surpasses the energy output of the Forerruner ship. Sir, it's beyond massive.

"General Sturnn." Vadam's voice was full of preocupation."I think we should pospon this negotiation and I believe we will have to change the terms of our agreement."

**Sanghelios sysem outskirts.**

It resembled slipspace, only that the tear was massive and red. Soon all stations registered electronics. Ships, and in great numbers. The ships themselves weren't that special, in terms of energy output, the scanners deemed tham similar to Battle-cruisers. What was astonishing was the amounts of energy surgin from that entrance, ridiculous. Even the whole fleet didn't emit such amounts.

Sangheilos had at the moment over fifty battle stations domestically built, and half a dozen acquired to the UNSC (the MAC were serious business), and a hundred and twenty vessels. There had been more before the Remnants uprising, but they were faring well.

The number of unknown ships already numbered 400. All of them had around 2 kilometers of length, except for five of them who were the size of an _Infinity-class_ battleship. More were inbound.

The dominant type of vessel was similar to a terran squid, albeit the 'tentacles' resembled claws and it was black, or dark grey. The other five ships vaguely resembled the imperials', and their surface was full of weapons.

They approached. Contact was attempted, for naught. They were close now, too close. Inside the bridge of the biggest battleship, the Harbinger nodded. His mind reached the whole fleet. His minions understood the order.

They fired. Red streams of death and doom flowed.

Station Uuros-4 was wiped out on sight, and two vessels were blowed up. Two stations and as many vessels suffered cripling damage. By then the exchange of shoots began.

Field Marshall Eupa, at platform Suban-2 gave orders to his forces and sent a message of distress to the rest of the Empire and the UNSC, in case the enemy overwhelmed them.

"Kudron battlestations are to occupy emplacement beta-4 to beta-11. Order them and formations Nikoist and Moreen to attack hostiles 14 to 23. Squadron Ghur'Khazelm are to retreat behind the MAC"

Soon words materialized into actions and better placed shots. The Kudron battlestations, fitted with both plasma turrets and pulse lasers, both of greater size than those used in ships (for mobility and armor issues), hammered hard the enemy. Every three hits of the main lasers (and every battle-station had four) and seven of the plasma turrets (every battle station placed around a dozen) a vessel blew up. That was for the main guns, for every battlestation used two around a hundred emplacements of both plasma and laser systems, but those were the same size as the ones used by ships. They could as well withstand

The attack pattern was simple: first a swarm of torpedos to obliterate the enemy vessel; if it survived then went the ship weapons. Simple and effective. This method, used by both the battlestations and the Sangheili vessels was surpassed only be the MACs': shoot at the nearest one, hit it, and see if the shoot is enough to kill the closest one. If the answer is 'no', then finish that damn bastard with the next slug. The PDF marshal saw as how a slug grazed a 'squid', chopped the tentacles of his right side, and impaled the one behind. Truly they were good weapons.

Formation Nikoist, formed by four CPV-Heavy Destroyers and two CCS-Battlecruisers got entangled in combat with a dozen 'squids'. The red beam at point blank range tored the _Fist of 'Qurum_ and hit the battlecruiser _Joyous Zealot. _In retaliation, the surviving fighters of the anhilated CPV charged agains the 'squids', Over five squadrons, numbering 22 seraphs, rammed the beam turret they had nearest. It didn't fire anymore. And that was the only weapon they had (why? were they so arrogant in the power of their beams that thought that one weapon per ship was more than enough?). Soon enough, many squadrons emulated that pattern and the enemy firepower began to shrink. To begin with, those twelve ships were already silent, at the cost of a third of the surviving fighters form the _Fist of 'Qurum. _In ten minutes those ships were no more.

Another interesting point was the relative weakness of those enemy vesels: a frigate or a corvette couldn't, but everything that carried the same (or more) tonnage than a CPV could ram the 'squids' and crush them. Shipmaster Orna 'Khuran of the CSO-Supercarrier _Glorious Ascencion _had successfully past throught five enemy vessels. Utterly destroyed, plus three more that were destroyed by the bombers, and the fighters took down another one plus cripling and silencing a second. THe fighters though, were sturdy. Slower and inferior in most of aspects,yes, but made for it through sheer numbers. A banshee could take down three or four, but in most cases they came in groups of fiver or more. The disparity in numbers was equilibrated by the anti-spacecraft weapons fitted in both vessels and battlestations.

Had the numbers stood that way, Eupa, as commander of the defensive assets of Sanghelios, would be sure of victory. But more, and more, 'squids' came through that breach. And there were the five battleships too. Those five alone were a differen story, with a total of eight kills (refering to ships) on their count, and they still were adding more. He ordered battle group Urs and Justicar, of five battlecruisers each, to engage those hostiles. And put a MAC into the task too.

Eupa had to change a few more things. Line two, composed by the battlestation groups Kudron and Joori was about to colapse. The squids were ramming now the battlestations. Four were needed to do so: two were destroyed before reaching the station, the third took heavy damage but with the remainings of his hull it managed to crush the shields and part of the structure, and the fourth put an end to it. Four was the minimum, requiring of both good timing, coordination and no intervention of enemy ships. If everything went bad ten or eleven were needed. That, according to the examples set by Joori-2 and Joori-5.

"Sir, reports from fleet _Redemtion of the Arbiter _indicate that they will arrive in four hours. _Sanguine Dominance _will get to our position in five hours.

Not bad. Vadum was in charge of that first fleet. He had come to Sanghelios to see the new (and only) hatchling of the emperor, Han'Vadam. They held an important (and contested) position so they numbers were considerable: over 110 vessels, with 3 CSO-Supercarriers. Qogor'Fulsam, the fleetmaster of the other fleet, had a less dangerous and relevant assignement, so his feet only hosted 36 vessels. At this pont, between the orbital defens platforms and ships, his forces' casualties amounted to third of their original size. The attackers had lost four times that, or more.

Eupa's satisfaction dissapeared quickly when he saw again the battleships. One of them was out of action, a second inmobilized but still firing its powerful batteries. Four battlecruisers were lost, a fifht crippled. Now it was a two versus five. The third survivor was in another place.

Right in front of them, charging with nearly twenty squids.

Eupa prepared for the crash. There was none, and he understood why: they were boarding them. Why, he didn't knew. The idea 'to avoid needless casualties' didn't seem to apply to an admiral willing to loss ten ships to take down a single platform.

**Inside Suban-2.**

Major Sel' Refum had twelve years of career on his shoulders. He would be promoted soon, if he made it out of the fight. He glanced his forces, over a sixteen hundred sangheili eager to defend their homeworld. Suban-2 was protected by 7000 soldiers, and there were registered three boarding points. Each one was guarded by sixteen hundred elites. In case they bypassed one blockade and headed towards the command structure, a two-thousand soldier-strong force awaited them. And, as a last resort measure, the 200 remaining soldiers would hold positions until the marshall was transported to a safer place.

Who were these hostiles who attacked their homeland without reason? He now, somehow, understood the reactions of the humans at the beginning of the Human-Covenant War.

Hush. Stepping sounds, in great numbers. Turrets and heavy weapons were ready, and everyone was in position. It began. They were here. And how shocking was their presence!

They had no flesh, no bones. Neither skin nor scales. It was metal, they seemed pure robotics. Yet they retained an air of having experienced live once. A live ago, because now they were mere husks of steel that retorted in pain (that was his impression upon seeing their faces.). These husks of what had been life, had different forms, 'biologies'. Some resembled Sangheili, others Jiralhanae, many resembled humans. "Now begins the massacre."

The first to fire were their turrets, particle beam rifles (snipers) and light plasma-mortars. Dozens fell. Hundreds replaced them. The turrets never stopped firing taking drove upon drove of enemies. Those the size of a brute needed more than eight shots, truly something. The mortars' projectiles vaporized whatever they landed on. But the enemy didn't falter, nor slowed.

Then the elites fired, plasma rifles, carabines and repeaters. A few seconds later, fuel rod cannons, concussion rifles and plasma launchers joined the strife. Once in range, the husks retaliated: the biggest ones smashed the soldiers, the more humanoid attacked with their bare hands, which wielded a great physical strenght.

The tide soon receded. Sel beheaded two with his sword and made head shot with his pistol (looted from a UNSC soldier back during the war). The husks stopped charging, they retreated. Cheers could be heard between shots. Many had fallen (around two hundred) but they held the line.

In ten minutes came a second wave, more intense and lasting than the other. They had lost nearly twice their manpower. Then he heard shouts. Human shouts. He recalled than aof the armsmen of the "Imperium of Man" fleet had been stationed at that stationed. Reinforcements were welcome, more if they were warriors as fierce as humans could be.

He saw men wearing different uniforms than the UNSC, different weapons, and a diferent type of leader. It wasn't one of those grey-clad officers that stood behind the line organising his forces the most efficent way possible. His colors were lively, mostly red and gold. His trappings extravagant. He seemed alien, and familiar. For those eyes, those eyes belonged to a courageous warrior, with the drive to lead legions from the pits of despair towards the camps of triumph. His face was stern and brutally scarred, a monument to his martial experience and history as a survivor.

Pious Jomins, commissar. Men of discipline and duty. Faithful to the Emperor and devout of the Imperial Creed. How had he ended up helping xenos? Was this a trial set up by the Emperor? To see if they could keep the straigth path even in the most tortuous ways? He didn't care now, for he had orders to lead the armsmen and the few guardsmen of this station. Luckily all of them had seen a fair share of combats. Could the same be said of the xenos PDF?

It could. As a matter of fact, they were fighting with zeal and determination. The hordes of those monstruosities fell on sight. He placed his forces in combination with the xenos. They knew that if they attacked one of the aliens, Pious would execute them. Lascannons and plasma guns crushed even the hardest targets. Lasguns made short work of the lightest. The third and fourth wave were lighter, and the combined defenses barely los a hundred soldiers.

Sel was deeply impressed. During the fourht wave Pious hadn't stopped screaming rallying shouts for even a second. His voice gave strenght to his soldiers, and the Sangheili. The commissar intended so,therefore, he didn't include an anti-xenos statement during the whole time. He too was a force of punishment: two armsmen tried to run away, both of them were pumped with lead by Pious. Nobody would show his back to the enemy, the message was clear. But what astonished the major was the courage, and the lack of value for his own life, that showed that man. On many occasions he had witnessed how that human bested in duel not one or two, but five or six of those abominations at the same time. He was bleeding from his ribcage, but that didn't seem to check the will of a warrior.

Once, he took a belt of plasma grenades and jumped towards a specially humoungous and armored husk. The beast became a bluish shroom. To attempt such a thing. It bordered in madness.

The fourth wave had been wiped. They waited for the next one. A minute passed, another followed it. In twenty minutes nobody came. They seemed to be stuck in the outer rim of the station. The other entrances reported the same. Suspicious.

He couldn't ponder about the reasons of that delay. Why? He got impaled by a spear.

Roars echoed the halls. The sangheili shudered. The humans were terrified. Three words were formed silently in their lips: Chaos Space Marines. Of the Word Bearers Legion.

Indeed, and khornate daemons too: bloodletters, fleshhounds and juggernauts.

The unholy phalanx tore the defenders positions. They were fast enough to slightly surpass the elites, and with far better reflexes. Their armor could take head on more than a dozen impacts from the turrets. The mortars heavily could still get them on one hit though. Not that it mattered, the line buckled fast. The enemy still didn't care for its losses, now more lighter. The enemy had been taken by surprise, weary from a full hour and a half of constant combat, and not optimally equipped.

Pious stood firm, now surrounded only by xenos. His kinsmen running away. He could hear both screams: the ones of pleasure and savage joy emited by the Chaos offsprings, and the ones from human and xenos, these ones of pain.

"Stand firm! We must hold the line, if they-"

A bolter round ripped his arm. Falling in a pool of his own blood, Pious writhed in pain while he got a shower of the sangheilis' blue blood. The line had been broken.

It was over, for him, his men, the xenos they had fighted alongside. They had been defeated. He heard a few voices. He tried to rise his head, managing to see a men clad in black armor and wearing a slightly ragged red cloak and a Space Marine of the World Eaters (he could tell it by the crest he wore in the chest).

The man (he was human for sure) had a skintone similar to cinder. He had no wrinkles, but transmitted an air of veterancy. He had a lush beard and a mane of red hair. His eyes seemed to burn with desire. Desire to destroy and oppress. When he spoke, his voice gave the commissar the chills.

"Everything is going according to the plan."

"Not so according to it."Puntualized the Astartes, he was really calm for a World Eater ."We lost many more than we expected."

"It hardly surprises me. Since the situation is complicated."

"I still can't see why you splitted the reaper forces. Now you have control but, the rest of their kin might try to free them from your yoke."

"Don't fear for them, Kharn. They obey to the same master, the only difference is that they are being pulled by another string. Everything is under control. Soon the Conduit of this world will be ours."

"And is under your control to have this puny human hearing us?"

Pious breathing stopped. He had been discovered. Not that he tried to hide himself, but he believed that they wouldn't mind about a man lying in pool of his own blood.

The Harbinger moved towards him. He raised one of his legs and crushed Pious head with his iron boot. He then stared the Astartes.

"What puny human are you talking about? I only see corpses here.

**That's it folks, chapter 5. Now Sanghelios is under siege by an army of daemons, Chaos Space Marines, and daemons. Truly not a day to visit the planet.**

**What are the harbingers? I based it loosely on the nordic mythology. According to it, three horrible winters would precede the Ragnarok, each one announced by roosters who acted as its harbingers. So, there's three harbingers, that will lead the Enemy's armies. Saren is NOT a harbinger, he's just a peon of the Reapers. The other Harbingers are to be decided. If someone can think of a possible candidate, I'm open to suggestions.**

**And who is the harbinger? He is from one of my favourite games. I will give you a hint: His name begins with G. **

**Now Castor's party will reach Sanghelios in the next chapter with the fleet of Vadum. I think we will see the first battles on planets. I will figure it out.**

**Thanks again for reading.**


	6. Information of the Ghosts and others

** I wish to point something. The vessels, as someone said in a review, are not the source of the humoungous energy signature. The breach between worlds, that red thing from which the reapers came, is the source. I thought it was obvious, since to tear the walls of time, space, reality and whatever may be needed to break in order to bring a fleet of hundreds of vessels from different 'universes' you would need energy a punta pala, cascoporro, by the bush, and all the expressions used by each language on Earth that mean 'a lot' (and even then we would have a mere approximation). How the reapers managed it and why the hell the Imperials ended up doing the same will be explained in a latter date.**

**Then, as I said, expect bloopers from Mass Effect. I really thought that Tali was a biotic, she isn't. The reason is that when I first saw her cinematic I didn't pay attention to the mine she threw and thought, when the cronies flew, that was a biotic push. The damage has been done, so she's a biotic, albeit with very little power.**

**Now, leaving my ranting aside, I will tell you about the Tanith:**

**After many years of campaign, the Tanith First and Only, only survivors of their world, crossed their paths with Warmaster Macaroth on Urdesh. During the siege of the Forge World, the Ghosts fighted a guerrilla warfare, wrecking havock among the line of the Blood Pact. During the last battle, a desperate attack at the Imperial Headquarters, their kill ratio nearly reached the two hundred chaos-servants per Ghost. And was Ibram Gaunt, at the climax of the battle, the one to strike the finishing blow on Ghor Vansie, first and foremost of Archon Urlock Gaur's liutenants. The epic duel lasted for nearly a whole hour until the Colonel-Commissar beheaded the heretic. Its unusual length was due to Ibram limited maneuver margin: if he left the Warmaster, wounded previously by Ghor, unprotected the crusade might have suffered a tremendous blow.**

**Macaroth, who had followed the exploits of Gaunt and his regiment, decided to grant the Ghost's a special-forces status. Never again they were to take part in attrition battles, instead they were meant to fight as guerrilla forces, resistance warfer, stalkers and harrasers of the Archenemy's minions. They were issued the finest weapons and even charged three of the most revered techpriests of Urdesh with the task of develop weapons that fitted the Tanith and improved their performance. Unfortunately none of them developed anything new in time, since the Crusade reached its completion by the end of the following year.**

**Nevertheless, Macaroth, while still holding the rank of Warmaster, stablished that the forgeworld of Urdesh would provide the Tanith the wargear developed, as a first priority seconded only by the needs of the Urdeshi forces. Also, the now Lord Commander of the Segmentum Pacificus (Lord Commander Irrel Levant died a week after the Crusade completion) gave the Tanith a more important gift: a home.**

**Warmaster Slaydo had promised Gaunt that once the crusade was over he would be granted a world he had conquered. Macaroth, truthful to his mentor's promise and in recognition of the man he respected the most, granted the Tanith a new world, which was to be terraformed so it could provide nalwood, old Tanith's moving giant trees and main exports. Also, he scoured the whole segmentum in search of people with Tanith ascendency. In five years the world New Tanith boasted more than threehundred thousand citizens, all of them of Tanith ascendence. In addition, many Vergastites emigrated to the new world.**

**In this days New Tanith fields four regiments, named the New Tanith Ghosts, in honor to the first-and only (the Gaunt's Ghosts). they are numbered from the second to the fourth, the first belonging to the Tanith First-and-Only as a remembrance of their lost homeworld. The actual commander of this legendary force (whose flag is among the thousand banners that fly in the Imperial Palace, an honor only allowed to the best of the Imperium) is Lord General Brin Milo. Ibram Gaunt has long ago abandoned the path of War, focusing himself in the just rulership of New Tanith, assisted by a council of elders from each city.**

**The second and third, are commander respectively by general Elim Rawne and colonel Gol Kolea. The fourth, recently founded, is under Ibram Rawne. All of them are experienced path-finders and excel in stealth combat.**

**Each regiment is small sized. The biggest, the first-and-only, roughly numers 3000 soldiers, the other around 2000. But in exchange for their few numbers, the Tanith push a lot of stock in training their guardsmen. A tanith is a stealth expert, knows of demolition, sniping, organize battle plans... They are too proficient in hand to hand combat. Most tanith use 'straight silve', 20 centimers-long warknifes. It is said that their best users are capable of besting the Chaos Space Marines in combat.**

**For firefights, the average guardsmen are issued the Urdesh-Prime Pattern. This lasgun's energy packs have a twenty percent more of storage and their shots are nearly twice more efficient. They are hard to produce, but the effort is a good one in hands of the Ghosts. For heavy weapons, the tanith use volley-stalker-guns, a modified version of the scions volley gun that sacrifices fire rate and power in exchange of emitting no noise, and the thred-fethers, missile launchers.**

**The Ghosts' follow the standard regimental organization save for a unit: the Scout-Corps. This forces, the elite among the Tanith, are the most sneaky among an army that is qualified often as Ghosts. The scouts are recruited from the rank and file and his admission depends on the Chief Scout (the most skilled and senior of the scouts) alone. Such is the importance of this special unit, that the place of second in command in the regiments is shared between the Chief Scout and the Major. Sometimes both ranks belong to the same individual.**

**Many members of the Untill of Gereon, the Nightgane emigrated to New Tanith (smuggled would be a more correct term) and they provide a fair share of the Scout-Corps.**

**The Tanith avoid direct major engagements, favoring skirmishes and sabotage to bleed the enemy. They are like a scalpel, frail, but lethal and very precise. A general with a Ghosts' regiment under his command can only expect the best from this men. Also, commissars have little problem with them. A tanith has ingrained the respect for commissars, an inheritance of Ibram Gaunt. Also, commisssars tend to be softer to Tanith infractions, for they know that the fellow guardsmen of the infractors will deal with them accordingly. More than one commissar has said They might seem disheveled, but they behave as a guardsmen should and fight as five soldiers in one.**


	7. The battle of Ghecum

**Did you enjoy the last chapter's battle? Then prepare for the next one.**

**The Harbinger is Ganondorf. Yes, the villain of zelda. For description just watch an image of him in twiglith princess**

**Also: GuestLurker, John-117 is not going to become the primarch equivalent of the spartans. For go****d's sake, he got modifications but his DNA is not remotely as fucked up as the Primarch's. He will be the best of the best but not that overpowered. And have you their biographys? They are probably the most messed up family I ever seen in my life.**

**Also: without the intervention of the Emperor, a.k.a. Space Jesus (or Space Hitler depending on how you want to see his deeds in the 30th milenium), it would be considered heresy. And last thing I want to do is dealing with the Inquistion.**

**I had my doubts about wether include or not daemons. I did it in the end, and they will get a nasty surprise. **

**Now read.**

**7.- The battle of Ghecum.**

Brother Kol Badar, Koriphaus (champion) of Chaplain Marduk's host didn't like the situation. According to his intelligence none of his previsions had been right. He had lost a hundred battle-brothers and as many daemos, Juggernauts aside (those he had lost eight). They would lose more. He had expected to take this fortification with just half that amount of casualties, and they were still cleaning the second ring.

Their Host and Dark Apostle Ebezon's were the only ones of the Word Bearers to have joined the invasion, they numbered over twentytwo hundred legionnaires. Plus the horde of daemons that followed them and those Abominable Intelligences (AI), they formed a mighty force. Yet the deffendants, in their pitiful and preposterous struggle, dared to fight back. And that meant losses.  
But he didn't expect that many losses. Those filthy xenos and slaves of the Corpse-Emperor fought back pretty well. More than their fighting skills, were those invisibility artifacts the xenos made us so extensively. Unless a flesh hound was around, they didn't have a chance to find them. Here the warp was so bright, so clear, that the souls of individuals, unless making use of big amounts of energy from the warp, were impossible to find. He stood tense for a moment. His instinct warned him.

"What is it my lord?" Asked brother Eridanius, one of his four bodyguards.

He got a gestual response instead of words: Kol pointed his combibolter ( two bolters in one weapon that was charged with both inferno rounds and normal ones) and shot him. He was dead before touching the ground, and so the elite that hid himself a few paces behind. On seeing the death of their companion, nine elites appeared firing their carbines and wielding their plasma swords.

Kol wielded his chainsword. He put it in march. His Astartes did so. Howling like beasts, the messengers of Chaos Undivided charged.

Two xenos attacked the koriphaus, one of them with red armor. The xenos' sword was so powerful that it nearly chopped his weapon. Luckily he had feinted. Now his belly was exposed. His chainsword tored apart the flesh and freed the blood and entrails. Now the next liberation corresponded with the blue armored xenos' brains via a bolter round. These flew even faster than the organs of the first victim.

He caught a glimpse of battle brother Lamepath and battle brother Ethic. The first had been stabbed to death by three xenos. He had crushed the skull of a fourth and blew to pieces the first one to strike him. The remaining two were pumped with lead by brother Cachobruto. Ethic had killed one xenos when two more charged him with grenades on their hands. They immolated themselves, taking down one of their foe.

Kol cursed, for they were suffering unacceptable damage. He wondered if this formed part of the Harbinger's plot.

** Battlestation Suban-2. Command bridge.**

"Sir, energy readings imply that the 'breach' is going to close. Energy output perceived now is just a tenth from before, no more ships are appearing."

"Fine." Eupa had better hopes now, for their men could handle a force that didn't recover its losses in a second.

"All vain hopes, in the end." Murmured a deep voice.

Eupa and everybody in the command center turned towards the direction it came. There stood Dark Apostle Ebezon. The Astartes, clad in a maroon power armor full of spikes and with three skull racks, grinned savagely. He began to speak in a strange langueage, then he lifted in the air while spinning, and three seconds latter he threw a ray towards a major. The Astartes began a chant.

The Sangheili fell in the ground retorting and spitting foam, at first. Then he spat blood, then a red mass came from him. The mass grew larger to the point of reaching the size of a Scarab. And when Ebezon finished the ritual it had form.

His monstruous head was similar to a bull's but with wolf teeth. His arms were so musculous that the veins appearead to be on the verge of exploding. His torso was wrapped in a black armor ornated with the skulls of a hundred vanquished foes. His hand had claws like swords and held each one an axe the size of a phantom. His eyes, pleaded for his desire: to quench his thirst for blood.

"Master Kar'Voth, please accept this humble feast for your coming to this world."

Kar'Voth was angry at Ebezon, such was the greater daemon's indignation that he grappled the dark apostle and squashed him. That puny mortal had barely brought enough sacrifice, the blood spilt by the forces battling this station, to summon him. Now wanted that this diminute mob of inferior beings (barely two hundred) to be his first meal. He would feast on them, then he would land in that planet and begin the dishes. And then he would go and take Ebezon's soul and punish him adequately

"Fire!"Ordered Eupa, more out of fear than mere initiative." Fire at will my soldiers!"

And fire they did. Carbines and all sort of weapons bursted. For the two seconds their wielders were alive. the great bloodthirster of Khorne swept his giant weapon across the command center. In a second the room was blue with bits of entrails in the walls.

He still wanted more. And he would get it once they made landfall.

Ganondorf, king of the Gerudo strolled through the corpses. By now their soldiers had pretty much wiped the place. Sure a unir or two had to remain, hidden, but nothing in the way of resistance. He grinned at the prospect the enemy had faced: being mangled by crazed superhumans or eldritch abominations. Truly a horrible end.

He wondered what course of action might take Kharn. He wasn't a loose cannon. He was a chainsaw of gigantic proportions in the hands of a weakling traped inside a crowded place that had accidentally been activated. the monicker of 'betrayer' had been bestowed upon him for a good reason. For now he seemed to be on their side, but...who knows? If he turned to be a nuisance, Kar'Voth might have a good fight.

None of this truly mattered of course. If a duel between them took place, Gannondorf would slay the champion of Khorne before his chainaxe got activated. Truth be told, not even the greater daemon that loomed the ravaged command center could match him. He had more than a nasty surprise for his oponents.

He felt an itch, the communictor. It didn't even deserve the name of device, since it wasn't a technological trinket, no, it was a magical artifact. It resembled a stone of purple color. He smashed it into smoulder and threw it towards the air. The dust took the form of a woman: Serin Osman.

"You failed in taking down the Infinity."

"Yes, my lord, I'm sorry-"

"Do not trifle with me, worthless worm!" The king thundered, the admiral cowered in fear."Your tasks were clear, and yet your incompetence will bring us unnecessary headaches. But for your luck, you didn't fail in your second errand." His voice was now pure ice."Make sure you accomplish it, and inform me once you get the second part of your mission is completed."

The expresion of the woman was of relief. Little knew the poor sod that he was lying. He would just kill her once he got his hands on her, for poor performance cannot be tolerated. She bowed, promising success, and then the figure disappeared. The dust flew towards his hand and massed in his palm to form again the purple stone.

"Do you think she will be able to get the fragment of the key."Commented Kharn."She wasn't able to clean that nuissance."

"Perhaps we underestimated our enemy, certainly that Master Chief's luck appears to be ilimited." The name of that man provoked an itch in his wound in the chest." For now let's focus: we have a part of the key, and we are going to get the door."

The Janus key wasn't simply the guide towards the forerunners technology, it was the conductor towards something more important. It only needed a gate whose lock matched. A door here, in Sanghelios.

**Battlestation Qikost-12**

Vadam stared the void where Suban-2 ought to be. Five minutes ago the battlestation rammed Suban-3 and exploded. His friend, brother in arms and deputy had died in service. His death wouldn't be for naught.

He wasn't now the overlord of the Sangheili, now he was the Arbiter. The title of Arbiter corresponded to the supreme commander of all the Empire's military assets: fleet, navy, you name it. He held the title, but his intention was to cede the command to other individuals once his autorithy was recogned by the Sangheili as a whole.

"Sir, we have an incoming message from Vadam Keep."

The holograph showed a Sangheili female, one of the most beautiful to boot. And intelligent, really intelligent. Vadam disliked airheads, both in his troops and in his acquaintances. It was obvious for him that his mate for live ought to have a good measure of brains. Ulmwe'Vadam was one of the few Sangheili that had a clear marriage partner. Him.

"I greet you, my Emperor."

"And I greet you, my sun and stars."

"I've received the news: enemy boots soil our home and noble Eupa has died in battle." She bowed gracefully, then stared him intensely with her beautiful . Damnation! She was truly a flower of the mountain. And had the fierceness of a ghascam."My lord, allow my to lead the forces in ground."  
His heart nearly sallied out of the mouth. True, Sangheili females held the role of PDF per tradition. While the males waged war on the stars, they defended the homeland, the keeps and their families. And they received the same training as males, meaning they were good soldiers and commanders. Better, since most males tended to be a bunch of peacocks with zero ability to learn, misguided by the idea that learning from errors meant dishonor (at least so was his experience).

He intended to change that. For too long Sanghelios had loomed in the old traditions, change was needed. Both males and females would wage war on the stars, and the same would be applied in the deffence of the homeworlds. But still, she was his mate, the mother of their hatcling. If she were to die, albeit honorably, how would the little Han fare? Would he resort to servants to raise her or search a new mate that wasn't grudging to take care of another's hatchling? Would he be willing to do said search?

Yet her eyes told him to rest assured. That fierceness, that drive worthy of the finest lines of warriors, claimed silently to fend off any attacker, any enemy. He made a decision quickly, perhaps he would regret it.

"May the gods guide your sword, and may wisdon iluminate your strategy. I give you command of all ground forces." He still felt a noose in his stomach."Now go, my sun and starsm and triumph over the barbarians that soil the homeland."

She smiled, bowed and then disappeared. Vadam sighed, letting, allowing just for a moment his fears to roam loose. Just for a moment, for he knew that his wife was a capable, briliant some would say, commander. That and the matter he had between his hands: a battle in orbit.

Things didn't look well. He had around thirty eight vessels, five MACs operative and eighteen battlestations. By the reports, enemy casualties ranged between the four-hundred and four-hundred and fifty vessels. Nevertheless the enemy still had a pair of battleships and nearly two hundred vessels. Fortunately reinforcements would arrive in half an hour. Vadum's fleet was at the gates of Sanghelios, accompanied by the UNSC Infinity and a group of strange vessels. Unknown alleigance but friendly, as he had been told.

**Plains of Ghecum, Sangelios. Dawn of july 11th.**

The enemy had managed to deploy the cargo of a dozen ships. Nearly a million soldiers between cultists, husks, traitor guardsmen and Moblins (creatures that resembled pigs). In addition there were nearly a thousand Chaos Space Marines. The fatalities among their ranks had been cripling. In orbit there were only a hundred more. There was too a horde of daemons of khorne numbering in the thousands. Those eldritch abominations were lead by Kar'Voth, the only grand daemon.

The area were they landed had been overrun soon. Ghecum Keep was a minor stronghold. With barely fourteen thousand defenders it fell quickly. The enemy would use it as their headquarters, no doubt.

With haste, the enemy began his march towards Vadam Keep and other major locations. Had they attempted to land directly there or near one of the neighbouring keeps (all loyal to the bone) they would have been smithed by the intense anit-air defenses. The losses for taking their headquartes numbered the fourty-thousand. Still losses meant nothing for them.

Commander Ukze Moram led a force of six thousand soldiers against a splinter force of the enemy.

They numbered sixty-thousand. Luckly there were no more than eight Astartes in that force and most of them were either cultists or husks. The heavy hitters of the enemy had marched towards the north: Vadam, Vadum, Xytan and Nobom Keeps, the main planetary powerhouses.

On their side were a force of fourty-eight thousand of this so called Imperial Guard. These humans were radically different, he noted. They weren't your tipical marine fighting scared for his life. Something ghastly evoked in their presence. For what he understood this force belonged to a world named Krieg. There were too fourty humans from another world: New Tanith. The second group gave him the impression of barbarians, with their gruffy appearence, tatoos and demeanor.  
This second, and small, group's mission was to behead the enemy, to slay their commanders. Such a dishonorable tactics... But not that he cared. Those barbarians had attacked the home of his people, and in doing so they lost right to any measure of mercy.

He saw a column advance, made of mounted units. Really? In this day and age, to use beasts, and (relatively) small ones to boot, as a means to fight wars. How backward! The mounts, resembled terran 'horses', only that their legs were more robust and they ended in talons and that their heads were hidden by the same type of masks their riders used. Leading was colonel Gunther. That human had barely spoken, and when he did so he just said he wanted his men to lead the charge. Ukze was no one to refuse a sturdy meat shild of sixthousand mounted soldiers. And, where were the Tanith?

"Like you care about what can do that ragtag for the course of the battle." He thought with derision. But, if they defected to the enemy?

Eirdan Calins, commissar detached to the New Tanith 4th, grinned upon seeing him ruminating.

"Don't fret over them. They already departed towards the enemy camp to chop the enemy commanders' heads."

"I received no report of such a thing, not from them, neither from the guards."

"If someone noticed them, they wouldn't be called ghosts, would they?"

"I have little time for foolish human puns."

What a dry squid thought Eirdan. At his side, his mentors in the schola progenia seemed friendly.

The forces ocupied their positions. The Sangheili-Imperial force was fairly dispersed, wereas the otherside was more packed, meaning that artillery would cause gruesome damage. First were the kriegers, with the six thousand Death Riders, five thousand troopers, three thousand grenadiers and Gunther at the front. The second line was formed by the Sangheili infantry and fourteen thousand kriegers. The third line was formed by the rest of the Death Korps, under commissars Kyodras and Eirdan, who were in charge of defending the Imperial Banner.

Now the suns were already at their cenit. When they began their downfall, they would strike the enemies' sight. Good. Now it was time to begin the job.

And there the cavalry went. Silently, without chorusing warcries, shouts or any other sound. Only the talons of the beasts. It was like the dead had risen and reenacted their march towards the fields of war. And how fasts were those beasts! They were even faster than human warthogs. They were close now. Now the first shots were heard. A rider fell, two, three. Up to eleven. Five more salvos, now the casualties neared the hundred. The clash was inminent. The cavalry readied their spears.

They clashed. The line buckled. Better said, exploded alongside the tips of the kriegers' spears (they were indeed made of explosives). Now the death riders wielded swords and laspistols. The warbeasts used their talons to strike and shred those poor sods that approached them.

And so Ghecum, the first land battle of the Siege of Sanghelios, began. Up there in the stars, some guests arrived.

**I reckon this chapter is very short. Indeed it's just the first half of what I intended to do. But with all these exams I didn't know when I would have the whole script. So instead I made a few changes and published what I have. I doubt I will regain a normal writing pace until thursday. Then I will have a somewhat decent rythm until 26, after that a few days more of normal pace and then I think that by july I will halt it. I will begin work and I don't know the schedule yet, but it's likely to be an european version of a sweatshop. And I doubt I will have free days. So expect me to write next to nothing during the months of july and august. BUT. by september I will go back to my old habits.**


	8. Triumph at Ghecum

**Next chapter will be for ME and Ahzek and our beloved sergeant. Ahzek will speak about the psykers. And after that one we will finally see castor and all the other folks again. I intend to make the chapters still shorter and more spaced, since I will have next to no time in the foreseeable future.**

**As for Kharn, he's a pretty nice fellow. Yes he is a World Eater, and all of them are batshit insane for spilling blood by the bush. But in comparison of their fellows, Kharn is a levelheaded individual. Probably the most sane in the space marines sworn to chaos. Hell, he was a cool dude before the heresy. When Angrond was presented to his legion, he beheaded half of his officers. Kharn stood there, showing a pair of balls of adamantium so big that you would need a chimera to carry each one, and spoke his way with his angry (yes, GW is so cheap that they named Angrond a dude that was always angry) Primarch. And then they became BFF! Okay, no, with Angrond that's impossible. **

**Kharn is a grade S motherfucker, both on lore and games. Why? Just read about the battle where he earned his monicker. And his statline alongside his special rules.**

**Next. There's a thing I want to point about Ganondorf. He will be a mix of Wind Waker and Twiglith Princess.**

**And I'm pretty surprised nobody commented that Gunther's surname is attrition in german. Subtle? We are speaking of a character made from a GW product, in their dictionary there's no such thing as subtleness. If you think otherwise, please, read about the obliterators, or Gunther's homeworld with such a name that you would NEVER guess it's somehow related with an unending war.**

**Last it's a small correction, I will correct it soon, but I want to say that Ukze Moram, the Sangheili of the last chapter, is not a Major, his a zealot. I somehow translated his rank to the human chain of command. He is, specifically speaking, a field master.**

**8.-Triumph at Ghecum.**

The charge reached the climax. Now it was the turn to see the clash. The talons of the warbeasts shreded both meat and steel alike. The sabers hacked and slashed and the laspistols flashed deathly. Albeit considered weak, the lasguns packed a punch superior to any kinetic weapon that wasn't a grenade launcher (being a bolter round a eighty percent bigger than a grenade-launcher round). It fared poorly against ceramite and other types of advanced armor. But agains bare flesh or steel? Like paper.

And in the Middle of that mayhem field fighted Gunther. His power sword hummed a soft song chorused by more loud screeches of pain and death. His mount, Vernichtung, reaped lifes and synthetic existences as fast as three other mounts. No doubt of it, since it was of the finest genetic template the Labs of Krieg could accomplish.

Cultists and husks might have a chance against PDF, or Guardsmen from backwater and unknown worlds with little experience. The foe they fought today was neither the early nor the latter. The Sangheili here present were veterans of the Battle of Earth, and the kriegers had served on a dozen campaigns, trying to attone for their forefathers' sins. Not even the proverbial snowball in hell.

Of course, they were, albeit in reduced numbers, opponents more worthy: traitor guardsmen, lesser daemons with a few juggernauts, five sorcerors and eight Astartes. Astartes, physically speaking, were like two Spartan-II, and their armor was slightly better. But what truly meant the difference between both groups of super-soldiers was experience. A Spartan, at most, could have four or five decades of combat experience. A traitor Astartes could have milenia. In part for their genetic heritage, their gene-seed that made them extremely long-lived individuals (some said immortals). But mainly their lifespan was due to Chaos The unnatural Warp made that its dwellers never aged (or did so slowly, or faster, or died in a second... ok, don't bother to understand the warp. It isn't exactly a homogeneous thing that could be explained without losing sanity) and there was too the gifts of Dark Gods. Kharn the betrayer of the World Eaters hailed from Terra itself, he had been one of the first Astartes ever made. And possibly the eldest by now.

And as for the sorcerors, well, those were pretty weak. They could manage a few bolts and minor encantations. Something remarkable, considering they were Epsilon rank. Had they been in the clutches of the Imperium, the Administratum might have doubted between killing them or feeding them to the Astronomican or the Emperor. That is, if the Imperial Guard didn't kill them on sight.

Gunther, Ukze and the other commanders of both sides knew that victory wasn't the key of triumph. It was victory in a limited time. For the defenders it meant that those assets, if held for too long, wouldn't be of use against the main assault. If the attackers won, but too late, they would be pinned down by the incoming forces of Sekham and Moram keeps. Yes, no reinforcements would come to aid the besieged keeps, but those weren't the only targets. A planet cannot be conquered only by overruning it's neural center.

All commanders knew it, except Gorm the Beheader, the only World Eater aside from Kharn in this system. He only knew he had to collect skulls for the Skull Throne.

And he was doing a hell of a good job. The Death riders that sought him ended up in dices. By now he carried over twenty skulls. Scratch that, twenty one. Just a second ago he chopped the head of a krieger. After jumping over his mount and crushing it under his weight. It had been awesome. It was awesome. Gorm was tired of battling puny weaklings. This slaves of the Corpse-Emperor might by whelps, but not as much as his latest opponents. He let the urge of spilling blood overrun him. He felt the desire. Something was missing, he noted, that voice that whispered (well, shouted) inside his head and ordered him to maim kill and burn was nowhere to be heard. Like he cared, he was going to kill, independently of what said (or didn't say) that voice. Why? Because it was awesome.

A liutenant charged him. Both beast and man were ready for the duel. Gorm took a husk and threw it towards them. He avoided the synthetic but lost slightly his balance and was now off guard against the onslaught of the berzerker. First, he beheaded the beast. Then fended with ease the sword's swing. Now the rider was down. He placed himself in the adecuated stance, and beheaded the Death Rider.

Once severed, Gorm picked the human's head and rised while shouting: SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! A chorus of cultists and traitor guardsmen shouted: BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

He was most elated at his job. Now he had splitted in two a xenos. At this time the situation was a hard to discern. A small units tried to make ranged attack, only to be interrupted by swarms of husks or a charge from the cavalry. Still, they were strong, more than a normal human, and managed to beat those carcasses of metal with next to no trouble.

Two more xenos, this time they wielded swords of energy. Gorm stopped in his tracks, and lowered his axe. For a second they studied each other, measuring their movements. Then, both of them charged while spouting something in their xenos tongue.

Gorm left his chain-axe in the ground, raised his hands and grappled the sangheilis' heads before they could understand what was going on. And before they could react, before that, the astartes clasped his hands with their heads between. It was so fast, and with such a stregnth. They could barely hear the sound of skull bones shattering.

Alas, that arrogance, that act of boast, was his doom. Nobody would think that his enemy would attack from behind in this battle. He was now unarmed, save for its armored fists. He wasn't aware of them. He didn't knew it until he felt a sudden weigh over his shoulders. Then before he could fend off that weight, a strong hand moved a knife, it was stuck in his neck. The blade proceded to move, tearing the collar (the weakest part) of his old battered power armor. He gurgled in his own blood, an offering for the Blood God, this time it wasn't a willing tithe.

He could just manage to see, and just for a moment, a figure. Scout Cinwulf ap Cysgon. He vanished again, before anyone, friend and foe alike could notice him. The new stealth suits were interesting. They may be prototypes but certainly the tech-priests did a good job.

A similar show took place in more than a dozen locations. Battle Brother Sasrar got his head blewed. Jaran the Unholy, a ascendant champion of Khorne, steped on a carefully placed mine. Several commanders of the traitor guardsmen where snipped or stabbed by surprise (alongside their bodyguards). Two bloodletters were darted to death by the rein-bows (magnetic crossbows) of a nightgane scout. A sorceror fell to handmade pit with a grenade inside it.

Alekai, commander of the Archenemy's forces was aware of these incidents, but could not find the responsibles. Not yet. His only reliable sorceror, Abrabanel, was doing his best. He was a Astartes, but still his psychic powers were very modest. Both Space Marines knew that they were targets too, but aside from that they were like their fellow officers who had been already caught.

If they were to lose, he would stall them. He would bleed them and cause them an injury so severe that they may not be of use against the main force. The Astartes charged, tearing apart both kriegers and sangheili. This dark angel of death would erect a monument to his deeds with the flesh and bone of his enemy.

He could defeat anyone, he had the ruinous powers on his side, and Abrabanel's spells paved the path. Bolts struck what few tanks (similar to the Tau's) the enemy had brought. Him and battle brother Kolans, with half a dozen blodletters and a Juggernaut were hacking a bloody path in the enemy ranks.

A path quite tempting to follow, at least for Gunther, and half a dozen Sangheili officers with their bodyguards. The bodyguards wanted to follow that trail too. Ukze was one of that half dozen. He and his five-soldier guard.

"Faster, we need to stop this monster!"

And a monster he was. By the time they reached the enemy commander Alekai and his escort had killed nearly 300 soldiers and destroyed 4 tanks. Now, he and his bodyguard, plus five officers of zealot rank, their thirty bodyguards and nearly a dozen human riders. Gunther was the leading one, albeit Ukze didn't know it was him, kriegers had nearly the same model of uniform.

The Astartes attacked. Zealot Voro was beheaded before he could blink. He was fast, unnaturally fast for his weight. The same could be said for his minions. The other monstruosity clad in armor handled his hammer like it was a knife, squashing the two closest bodyguards with a single strike. The daemons hacked with their bastard swords.

Ukze charged when the enemy was heading towards the second officer. He reached them when they were beginning with the third. The others did so.

Now numbers weren't in Alekai's favor, and, for some reason, Abrabanel's psychic bond was cut. Could the enemy have killed him? As far as he knew three Astartes had been murdered and one had been blasted by the combined fire of two tanks, before crushing one of them with his rocket launcher. He couldn't know, nor he wanted to waste his energies in that menial task.

The death riders charged, the elites jumped. Thirty against seven:two Astartes and five blood letters.

The fearless mounts caught two blodletters and, between five riders, they killed them while suffering two casualties too. The reamaining three faced two Sangheili zealots and twelve minors. At first, the servants of khorne did well, killing two minors instantanously. But the zealots where skilled veterans with a great knowledge of swordsmanship. Ultra Noga managed to chop both hands of the first bloodletter. The beast tried to bite him but got shot by three plasma rifles. Zealot Zytan impaled the second one while it was too busy killing one of his guards. The third managed to kill Zytan, backstabbing him, and another guard by chewing his neck. He then got pumped by a hail of plasma.

Alekai was alone now. Kolans got attacked by Gunther and another five kriegers. He smashed one and his mount, then sent fliying with a wild swing a second one and caught the head of a third one with his lef hand, then crushed the skull. In that moment Gunther got the right opening to slash him. His weapon was a powersword, and as such weapons could do, the powerarmor couldn't withstand it. Nor could the robust neck beneath it. His craneum flew in the air. One of the kriegers, in an unusual display of both skill and boasting, raised his pistol and hit the head from the base, where the neck should be stuck.

Anger flowed through the astartes veins. With a surge of strength he attacked Ultra Noga, killing him and hacking down another elite by his side. He stomped two more elites and shot down with his combibolter (two bolters stuck together) a krieger. Now he swinged again his chainsword, slaying Ukze's last bodyguard. Then he fisted Gunther, sending the colonel flying backwards.

Now Ukze felt true fear, but he steeled himself and charged forward. The Astartes mimicked him but with more speed.

The clash never took place. A shadow emerged from nowhere, revealing one of the Tanith, the one with greenish skin and strange things below her eyes. She wielded a knife, a twenty centimeter long knife. Alekai wanted to kill the puny whelp for attacking him with such a small weapon. He extended his hand, but she avoided him, while swinging the piece of straight silver around his hand. He los two fingers. It was a power weapon.

A power knife. Whoever thought of that it was obviously an idiot. Why bother spending many resources on such a weak arm?

He attacked, his chainsword whining. She stood still, until the last moment. Then the scout deflected the slash with utmost ease and proceded to chop his hand with a graceful movement. Alekai growled in pain, cursing his arrogance. He was an Astartes, if someone attacked him by initiative it meant he had a minimum of skill. He tried to punch, for naught. Geheera jumped over his shoulders and murmured: "Like the first and only." She stabbed his scalp with the knife, tearing armor bone and brain tissue.

By then tanith fireteams were sewing destruction on the enemy lines. Hit an run with lasguns and stalker-guns. Abrabanel was killed by Scout Mkendrick's sniper rifle, _Banda_. In two hours the fight was over.  
Fourthousand krieger died, a thousand sangheili did so. The whole enemy host was routed. No tanith died.

At the east, The other three splinter forces had been defeated too. They were pirrhic victories. The Sangheili casualty ratio in those two battles counted over two to one. Yet they were victories.

But Nobom Keep had fallen, losing in its defense over twelvethousand soldiers, a thousand of them guardsmen.

The enemy barely lost a hundred.

**And that's chapter 8 gentlemen, ladys and apes with computers (wouldn't be surprised at all after surfing a bit on facebook). I want to tell you I will soon publish a cross-over of Bordelands 2-LoL. For those interested to read it, it's called: Get jinxed on Pandora.**


	9. Plea for help

**My dear readers. I fear the worst has come: I've run out of ideas.**

**Just kidding. I've got a ton of material to get going. But here's the trick: I don't have a clear idea for the most nearest chapter. The skeleton is done but I need to flesh it. And there is were I'm bumping into problems. Worse is, I'm getting plenty of ideas... for other projects. **

**I wrote a chapter with a Borderlands-LoL crossover and I want to do a crossover of Mass Effect-Empire series. For those that don't know about it, the Empire series, written by Eric Flint and the now deceased K.D. Wentworth consists of two novels, and ongoing (if Flynt finds a sidekick good enough to uphold the standards set by Wentworth.). The sinopsis is: earth is invaded by the Jao, a sealion-like species, and they conquer us. But after being a pain in the ass that the best of their best gets bonkers (and fending off an omnicidal mantises', that respond to the name of Ekhat, fleet) they give us humans the same status as them, something that never happened before in the other conquered species. That's the 1st one. I won't run into details of the second one.**

**So I'm here with three different projects at my disposal. And I would love some input for the main one. The action would take place in the Citadel. The main plotline is almost covered but I want to further explore Ahzek's and Johnson's interactions with this new world. And here is where you could help me. Something incidental, like those side-quests included in the game. Don't fret at all, now that I have free time again I will work in this 3 works with great vigor!**


	10. Things that go Akward

**Ladies, gentlemen and apes with computersss... here's chapter nine!**

**When I was looking a fanfic's reviews it shocked me how people said: 'more speed means more range'. Like all that mattered was speed! This was due to people discussing about the range of the MAC's and citadel weapons. What people forget is that the same projectile's mass is a factor of its range. Just to make yourself an idea. When you drive a car, try to halt it. Mark the place. Then you load it with all you can and try to halt it again, starting from the same place and pushing the brakes at the same moment, speed and time. It will halt farther than the first one. That's because strenght is mass per speed, meaning that more mass, but less speed, doesn't mean lesser range, since the bigger mass will make the reduction of speed slower. Otherwise the MAC's would have ridiculously short ranges and it wouldn't pay building them. I know this has no apparent reason, but I want to point it out before getting into business (serious business) with naval battles.**

**Before starting I ask you to read a bit of Lovecraftian stuff, specially the part of Outer Gods. You knows, entities before space and time whose pastime now is screwing with mankind and other mortal races. In addition I will include two character of my novel, right at the beginning and the ending each one.**

**9.-Things that go akward.**

The Tardis. Somewhere in a undeterminate moment.

The Doctor and the newcomer glared at each other.

He was indeed a threatening man, not by his appearence. Chubby men are never intimadating.

His record was more problematic. A record worth of someone holding the title of Yibb-Tsill's, the Patient One, Prophet, Harbinger and Champion.

The great Outer Gods, those were fearsome indeed. Timelords could travel throught time, but those things actually had survived it. If what this harbinger had told him was true, they dated back to the same Creation. And by that, the Prophet meant the Creation of all universes, the first batch. According to the patient one this one belonged to the fourth or fifth, she didn't care at all now. A common trait of all Outer Gods was their bitterness, for they were the drifters of long lost worlds. The last remnant left. Once gone (and they seemed to be killable, according to the Prophet), their homes memories would fade. It was shuddering the idea of surviving your beloved ones, but for so long?

Some of these entities truly loved the suffering, so their pain eased. But others, like the Patient One, where clearly unfathomable. Tiamat, the Great Ocean, was on bad terms with Yibb-Tsill, and therefore it seemed logical she alligned against her. But her ultimate goal was unknown. So he was wary of all his minions, specially this one. This one was danger, it run deep in his blood. His ancestors had proved generation after generation to be a magnet for trouble... and galactic plundering, but that didn't matter. Not even his Jormungandr destroyers mattered in what they were facing now, since he could put them to use in this theatre.

"Soon, the reapers will come." The pad he showed played a holograph of the Milky Way, the same galaxy he lived at, the same one that existed in a thousand worlds at the same time."This we knew, but their numbers greatly surpass even our worst estimates."

"And you can't help us." Said drily the doctor.

"Nor I'm really interested in."Recognised the scion of the most ancient moiety existant in that universe."Conquering my galaxy was already a difficult plan even with the backing of half the spiral, let alone with the other side fully united against me and counting the problem of fighting a civil war right at the core of your empire. Oh, and don't forget about the political intrigues, remember that my cousin was meant to inherit the Throne of Peace. My forces are spread to thin by now, I need to regroup and solve fronts, not open new ones. That doesn't mean, of course, that I will leave them to their grim luck."  
"If you don't trust Shepard."began Robert.

"And you're not willing to send your forces."Continued Rosalind.

"What are you going to do?" Ended up asking the two brothers.

"Commanders, I'm going to give them the best commanders I can find, and they (you can bet this) will gather an army behind the shadows. And when the storm comes."

He proceeded to rise his right arm, the one that was a prostetic, made of pure titanium. Then he smashed the cup.

"They will mop the floor with this wannabe exterminators."

* * *

Tali had two broken ribs. She was lucky, since the turian who was going to be her killer got all his bones and mucles broken, beyond repair. Now the giant that saved her life walked towards her.

"We need to get her to a medicae, her wounds aren't critical, but she definitely needs help."

She felt intimidated by that monster, bigger than a krogan by two or so heads. And certainly twice bulkier. Apparently, he noticed it and showed his face. A human face, albeit quite blunt in features. Those eyes, black like coal (like his hair), speared her, like they were locking targets.

"Allow my to present properly. I'm Ahzek Ahriman, first captain of the Thousand Sons."

"I'm sergeant Major Avery Johnson, it's a pleasure to meet you."

They formed a strange pair. Nonetheless they didn't seem to have worked together for long. Could they be agents from different branches of Cerberurs? She didn't knew much about them, only that they were high on making humans 'superior' to the other races. For now she had to be cautious.

"And where are you from...?"  
"Earth." Responded both at the same time, then Ahzek puntualized. "Not exactly your earth, though. Look this issue is beyond complicated, and there's no time to lose."

* * *

**Wards, Clinic of Doctor Michelle.**

The whole team (save for the gangers) awaited at the doors of the clinic. When they opened, doctor Michelle nearly was drowned in bodies. Luckily she avoided the heaviest ones.

Tali Zorah nar Raiyah was resting in a bed, wearing her suit, otherwise she might get a disease.

"Are you okay." Asked Shepard.

"Yes, though I feel a sting of pain from time to time."

Donnel Udina stormed the clinic, roaring with indignation.

"Storming clinics and bars! Nearly an all-out war in the Wards of the Citadel! Shepard what are you-." He stopped in his tracks when the hulking man in red armor was in sight, then he noticed Johnson and the Quarian."Who are they?"

"Ambassador, allow me to present first captain Ahriman, sergeant Johnson, and Tali of the quarian. Tali, here, was reported to possess information about our... suspect, Saren."

"Yes."

Tali showed a sort of device which, when activated, showed Saren and another person (who didn't appear in the hologram) speaking about what a success had been Eden Prime and that they were closer to the conduit. Udina grinned, he was really pleased now.

"Commander, perhaps I will manage to avoid your and your friends' imprisonement for wreaking havoc in the citadel."He joked."This, this is the proof we need. Because it's authentic, no?"

"Yes, it's a geth memory core."  
"Wait." Kaidan's eyes glowed with suspicion."Didn't geths' memory cores autodestroy themselves or something like that when they are extracted?"

"Yes, if you're not fast enough."Punctualized the quarian."We quarians made the geth, so we have plenty of knowledge of how to manipulate their parts. When I was in my pilgrimage, I discovered that the geth were out of the perseus veil, where lies our old homeworld. Never in centuries this had happened. So I searched for them and, once I got one alone, I quickly dispatched it. But unfortunately I couldn't get all the data.

"Oh, miss Zorah, this is more than enough." Commented Udina, with a note of malice.

* * *

Urge to say, the council couldn't rebate the proofs. The geth core was a seriuous source and there were the agents, some of which had been regular assistants of Saren (even two served at C-Sec). Saren status was revoked on the double. He no longer had privileges nor resources. But...

"How can it be you are not sending forces to stop Saren!?" Screeched the ambassador."Send inmidiately the fleet!"

It was painfully obvious that, even being a spectre, no sane gobernment would send a whole fleet to track a man. Even so, a token force would have sufficed, and surely a minor deployment wouldn't have alarmed that much the Terminus Systems, the neighboors of the Traverse.

"They are leaving us alone."whispered Catherine.

"That's it! I'm over this unfair treatment, I had enough of your anti-human bullsh-"

"Ambassador, hold your tongue."Cutted councilor Tevos, suddenly getting severe."Considering the situation, I guess Earth and Mankind will have their first spectre."

"You can't be serious! They are not ready!"

"Sparatus, it's the only way. Catherine Shepard stand forward."

She had been selected as a spectre, in the end. She vowed to serve the Citadel and be its ideal, its defender. Deep beneath her, though, a small voice countered every affirmation from her mouth. She didn't pay attention to it, albeit she was annoyed. Now she couldn't just focus on humanity, now she had a bigger picture to look at. And she needed the right tools to do so: supplies, a ship and a crew.  
Udina decided it: the Normandy, its crew, and its supplies. Anderson literaly got kicked out.

It wasn't fair, for decades Anderson had served the Alliance. And let's not forget that, according to what she knew, Saren frustrated his chance to become a spectre (the first human spectre). Still, he had accepted it. A weird end for him, pushing papers and dealing with the bureucracy.

But she had her crew and vessel. The Normandy was the best the Alliance could offer, as it happened with his crew, plus a few extras. Wrex, Garrus and Tali had accepted her offer to come, the first for pure amusement, the second to try something apart C-Sec, the third to continue her pilgrimage. There was too those two unexpected guests, Ahzek and Avery. Those two actually insisted to come.

The Normandy... Her ship. Her ship. Okay, no matter how many times she repeated it, she couldn't get it stuck. Guess she would get used to it.

Suddenly she felt a jolt of pain and everything turned black.

* * *

Amazingly, she noticed herself conscious. Only that her mind was drifting in an endless stark sea. What was this place?

She was surrounded by twinking lights, one of them being of humoungous proportions. It called her and, to her suprise, Catherine recognized the voice: Ahzek Ahriman.

"Welcome to the Immaterium, the Great Ocean"

"This is an alternate dimension, a place paralel and interdependent of your plane of existance. The Immaterium is the place where psykers like you and me extract their power. It's not like biotics, since they use the energy of the element zero, which belongs to our own plane of existance."

"Wait a moment, how is it come **I **am one of those... whatever you said?"

"My dear, there are many like you in this world only that, like you until entering in contact with the beacon (at least that's my theory), their powers are dormant. And better be this way: when they awakened en masse in my world anarchy and fallout ensued."

"Psykers are powerful beings, using the ancient greek alphabet, they are divided in ranks: from epsilon, the weakest one, to alpha plus, where the individual is so powerful that he, without any training at all, could shift the balance in wars, dominate battlefields and anhilate fleets. I myself I'm just an Alpha class, and believe me I know plenty of tricks. But don't think that being of a low level means nothing, they have powers surpassing that of a common mortal. And without the material necessary to know your level, it's better to polish skills and see how far you can reach."

Catherine stared, if that word had any meaning in that 'dimension', the Astartes. She was wary.

"How is it that you know this much? Who are you?"

"I'm an Astartes, servant of Mankind. And as an Astartes and librarian, I'm sworn to protect humanity from what danger lies in sight and beyond it. And Shepard, what lies beyond our gazes reaches farther than Saren, far than those advanced machines called 'reapers', farther than that.

* * *

**Omega, nominal capital of the Terminus Systems, Afterlife Club.**

Aria T'Loak had received a letter that day. Disturbing in this day and age to use that primitive method. More disturbing was the content. First it was written in a human language, but not a 'modern' one. According to the translator VI, it was latin, which became extint to all practical effects sixteen terran centuries ago.

Was someone to look down on her? A primitive method of messaging and written in a even more primitve language seemed pretty mocking. Damn it all. She was Omega! Aria T'Loak, the crimelady that ruled the heart of the Terminus Systems with an iron fist!

And it was ridicolous this letter:

_To lady Aria T'Loak:_

_Your days of extorsion, arson, and other crimes have come to an end. Surrender yourself tonight at 23:00 of local time. It's the only chance of forgiveness and redemption you will be given. In case you refuse, said offer won't be repeated nor will be accepted in case you plead for it._

_Roboute Guilliman._

When she tried to look for this Guilliman she found absolutely nothing. Hilarious, that this whelp tried to intimidate her, but didn't use his name at all. He cowered in a mask.

But, just in case she didn't take chances. Right now, over a hundred mercenaries from the Blood Pack, the Blue Suns and the Eclipse corporation were defending the place. It was a fortress now. Nobody would be so stupid as to storm this place.

Someone had been though. The door got blasted away and a blue lightning followed it. A human, of monumental proportions. Gorgeous, with those emerald eyes and golden mane. He was at least twelve feet tall and thrice or so the width of a krogan. He was clad in a blue armor with oversized pauldrons and gold decorations, mainly skulls and flipped omegas. That colossus wielded both a huge ass pistol and a sword that emitted a strange luminiscence.

"For Maccrage!" Shouted the man.

Four more individuals came after him: the first one was nearly as tall as the human, and was clad in a gray-black armor which fitted perfectly the curves of his body. The second one was smaller, barely half the size of the other two. The third one was closer in height to the giants, but there was a big margin left, he carried a red and black armor armor, with oversized pauldrons too (not as much as the human though). The last one didn't carry any armor at all. He just wore a black suit, like the officers of the Systems Alliance forces

He was similar to humans in appearence, like the asari. But while the asari could be called 'refined' and perfected blue versions of humans, this one could be called 'blunt'. He had a really big jaw, exhibiting a nasty bunch of fangs. His skin was green, a soft shade, and his eyes where a tad darker. His eye. For some reason the left one was of a different tone than the other, far more clear than the skin. This last one wielded a cutlass and a pistol, a small and slick one.

The mercenaries didn't await orders and attacked inmediately after the shout. The green one suddenly disappeared. And then the other four charged.

The man was fast. Two asari and a krogan approached him. He picked the krogan and thre it towards the asari who were forced to use their biotics, but got no time to react when the blue mountain of death was right under their noses. With a slash both heads were severed. And with that rampaging speed he mangled the mercenaries, never lowering his guard, never commiting a mistake. A perfect dance of blood, steel and gore.

As for the other three, two of them simply charged the mercenaries, their armors shrugging all shots and biotic pulses. How could it be? What materials could have been used to create such a defense?

The other one seemed to be an incredibly powerful biotic, slamming and crushing with that power even the best asari. Three of them tried to overwhelm him via pulses in great numbers. He just returned them, with little effort, ten times stronger.

By now nearly half his mercenaries were slain. They soon were retreating, using the tables for cover. But those damn weapons! The human wielded what seemed a semiautomatic rocket launcher. Hell, everything blowed up in contact with that monstruosity, and let's not speaking about the energy weapons the other two individuals clad in grey-dark armor had. It was better to run.

How could things get so messed up was anyone's guess but still, it was something really bad. Now that an attack to her had seemed to have minimal success her position in the city was severely weakened. People wouldn't see her as untouchable for the time being.

"Grizz, let's get out of here, now."

Her turian bodyguard obeyed silently. Strange that he didn't make a caustic commentary about how the mercenaries had botched the defense, how it would have been better to use her troops, albeit it was liable to weaken her strenght in case of suffering losses. He just said a thing.

"We have to be careful, there's one left."

The green one hadn't been seen for the short duration of the battle, true. Had he taken a spot to snipe enemies? Scratch it, he didn't have a sniper rifle. For now the best option to get out.

She built an emergency exit in case an attack like that one succedded and she needed to save her hide. It was a short stroll, indeed, shorter if one ran. But she didn't finish the travel, she halted on the door: Grizz was there, bound and gagged, shaking his head towards her. No, behind her.

She felt a gun touching her skin. She turned and saw Grizz stopping to be Grizz. It was like a camouflage used by chamaleons brought to another level. The green being smiled.

"I told you to be careful. Now, my fair lady, if you were so kind to surrender."

* * *

The mercenaries threw their weapons once Aria gave the order. The other four stopped the slaugther in exchange.

In seven minutes nearly eighty persons had died, none belonged to the attacking side.

Now she was sitting on a couch, one of the few that remained in acceptable conditions. Grizz was by her side. Four of the attackers stood firm, save for the green one, who seemed to be at hom. The green one brought a teapot and offered a cup to the others.

"Madame, take here a cup."Offered her captor."Allow me to make the presentations: I'm General Gorkkan Gjarian Mog'Oth."

"I'm Forthencho, lord of admirals."

The 'lord of admirals was human, but not a homo sapiens. She made a bit of study on humans back after the conflict on Shanxi and could make clear that his facial traits belonged to a Neanderthal, a species believed to be extinct milenia ago. He was tall, though, for someone of that species, and fairly darkskinned, with a wild black mane.

"I'm Shadow-of-Sundered-Star, Ur-Didact of the Ecumene."

The one to speak was one of the giants. He resembled a human too, but had no nose. His skin was pale and had a few rounded protuberances where humans had ears. He didn't have hair, but... weeds? She couldn't find the exact word to describe them.

"I'm Javik, last general of the Prothean Empire."  
Protheans!? One of the mythical beings, creators of the relays, was here!? Now something was wrong. She knew it by the way those four frog-like eyes were stabbing her soul.

And then the last one rose. A magnificent angel of death, for which the rest of creation was but a petty attempt to emulate him. It spoke, now with a soft voice.

"I'm Roboute Guilliman, suzerain of Maccrage and Primarch of the Ultramarines, Lord Protector of the Imperium. We came here to take Omega. Now it's the moment where you answer my ultimatum: Will you help us or will you join your mercenaries?"

* * *

**And that's chapter 9. I rewrited it twice, but i feel it's worth it.**

**I will post additional of those two 'misterious' characters if someone thinks it may be interesting. Also I will run a poll to see where should Catherine go first: Noveria, Therum (where she will find Liara) or Feros.**

**Speaking of the commanders, I included them basically because I felt that two dudes were too few for a cross-over. And I included Guilliman because he is the one for the job of building a state. The other primarchs approach would leave the systems in a worse mess.**

**Roboute Guilliman (pronounced Row-boot Gill-i-man) is my second favourite primarch, and one of the three I wouldn't abandon in a death world and then stage the most vicious exterminatus ever made. While he is truly a jerk in many occasions, he has a heart of gold. His preocupations always lie in the benefit of the people he serves (as he states in the Codex Astartes) and making sure people earn their share in base of their efforts. That being said he despises nepotism and sticks close to tradition. That makes that his strategy tends to focus too much in forward charges (which leave the conquered territory in good shape and makes easier the recuperation). Also, Roboute is the only reason the Imperium keeps working up to date (not that it works well, but it's preferable to a second Age of Strife).**

**As for the 'semiautomatic rocket launcher'... well, a bolter shell's calibre is around 0.75, while grenade throwers (nowadays) use a 0.40 and are shorter than bolters ammo. So guess how much of a punch it packs.**


End file.
